In the Grip of Grace
by proantagonist
Summary: When Loki learns the truth of his heritage, he quietly leaves Asgard behind. The search for the lost prince continues for nearly a year until Odin hires a professional tracker to find him, sending Thor along on the hunt to ensure Loki's safe return. They locate him on Midgard, living on his own in a run down apartment—depressed, weakened, and trying very hard to disappear. Thorki.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: When Loki learns the truth of his heritage, he quietly leaves Asgard behind. The search for the lost prince continues for nearly a year until Odin hires a professional tracker to find him, sending Thor along on the hunt to ensure Loki's safe return. They locate him on Midgard, living on his own in a run down apartment—depressed, weakened, and trying very hard to disappear.

But finding Loki turns out to be the easy part. Thor must figure out a way to get through to his brother before his anger finally boils over into violence.

**Notes** – Written for the lovely sheilatakesabow for her birthday. :) She requested Thorki hurt/comfort. Apologies for being late! You are without a doubt one of the sweetest, most thoughtful people in this fandom.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

_A crescendo of raised voices disturbed the cool hush of the Vault._

_The light from the guards' torches shone in Loki's eyes as he looked to them in dismay, so overwhelmed with conflicting emotion, he found he could no longer speak. His outstretched hands trembled, his father's fallen body just beneath them yet seeming impossibly out of reach. Untouchable._

_The guards crowded together with Loki and the All-Father at their center, and the light from their torches painted a flickering circle onto the cold stone below. Loki stood and moved to the side to give them room to work, rubbing at his hands as if to wipe something distasteful away, though his skin was clean. A flood of unwelcome information pounded behind his temples, and he was caught somewhere in the middle of wanting to shake and scream at the old king until he awakened or to press his face against the familiar strength of his father's shoulder and pretend nothing had transpired at all. Either reaction made him feel like he was slowly losing hold of his senses._

_It felt good to slip away and retreat into the shadows. To hide. His mind replayed the moment when the whisper of cold from the Casket had transformed him into something horrific. Though his skin was once again its normal tone—or what he had once considered normal, at least—Loki still feared someone might see through whatever enchantment disguised his appearance._

"_My prince," a guard called to him. "Tell us what happened. There was a report of shouting."_

_Tears spilled from Loki's unblinking eyes. He looked to the Casket on its pedestal and remembered the Einherjar who had died in an attempt to protect it from the frost giants—the ones Loki had allowed into Asgard. Now understanding that he himself was J__ö__tunn, what he had once considered a harmless joke now twisted into treason of the highest order. He could lose his head for this. And now he'd driven Asgard's king into the Odinsleep—or something far worse._

_He wasn't certain what frightened him more—that he might be found out or that for centuries, he'd been living in a den of liars more talented than he could ever hope to be._

_When he felt a sharp pain in his chest, he wondered momentarily if it was possible for a heart to literally break. He stepped further back into the shadows. When that did not seem far enough, he used his sei__ð__r to wrap himself in invisibility and quietly disappeared from sight._

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><p>- One Year Later -<p>

"He's been here, all right. I'd bet my life on it." The tracker turned in a deliberate circle, his profile outlined by the city lights shining through the dirty film of the windows. His quiet laughter filled the small space. "Or perhaps yours."

Thor eyed the man with long-simmering wariness. "My brother has grown up surrounded by wealth and finery. This abode does not seem a likely fit. His tastes would not allow him to live here comfortably."

They stood in an empty apartment positioned high above the Midgardian metropolis known as New York City. Endless souls walked the streets below, and from this height, looked almost like a steadily flowing river. The apartment itself was cramped and cold, like an empty shell in want of a soul to warm it. Thor could cross the main living area in five strides, and only a single chair with a hard, uncomfortable back and no arms served as furniture. There was a kitchenette crammed into one corner, but the cupboards and countertops were empty. The walls were barren, and none of the light switches worked. It took Thor a minute to realize that there wasn't a problem with the wiring; the electricity was simply cut off.

The tracker nudged a loose floorboard with the toe of his boot. "I don't recall suggesting he was comfortable."

"Understand that I have lived for centuries at my brother's side and know his habits well," Thor said with no small amount of heat. "Loki would never step foot in this place, much less live here willingly. My father hired you to find him—not to lead us astray."

"Oh, do forgive me," the tracker said. "I was under the impression that you had failed to locate your brother for months and months after his disappearance, and that perhaps your knowledge of him was not as comprehensive as you might think." A smile spread across his face. "Feel free to leave me to my hunt if you have other places in mind to search."

Thor ground his teeth but offered no reply. There was no way he was letting the tracker out of his sight—not when he continued to use the word "hunt" when referring to the search for Loki.

The tracker had no name or allegiances. Known only by his trade, it was said he was from a distant world that died soon after he was born. His features were humanoid and forgettable—colorless eyes, dirty brown hair, and scuff on his cheeks that he shaved every so often. He was dressed in jeans, a worn leather jacket, and heavy boots, though Thor had witnessed the man (or whatever he was) blend in seamlessly with whatever world they journeyed to. He had wondered more than once if the tracker was a shapeshifter. He was most assuredly a practitioner of magic.

Despite his untailored appearance, his talents were well known and not purchased at an easy price. He had found criminals, lost treasures, abducted political figures, and the kidnapped children of parents who had long given up hope. He had a high success rate and typically only failed when the person he was searching for was already dead. Still, there was something about him that made Thor uneasy. He did not like the idea of his little brother being seen as someone's prey.

It was said the All-Father paid a hefty sum to secure the tracker's services, and the queen had even sacrificed several priceless manuscripts as an added bonus to persuade him. It was the only way the tracker would agree to allow Thor to journey alongside him. Odin had taken one look at the tracker and insisted upon it. For three months, they'd explored various pockets of the universe, searching for any sign of the missing prince. Thor was still unconvinced the tracker was worth a fraction of his price.

Still, at times came a glimmer of hope. There was a faint but familiar scent in the air that troubled Thor's heart and sent him wandering about the apartment. He found a small bedroom that contained a flimsy, metal-frame bed and very little else. The closet door was cracked open, but no clothing or other personal items were to be found. Just an empty wire coat hanger, swinging ever so slightly like it had been recently disturbed. Thor stared at a small pile of blank white paper on the floor before the open balcony doors. There was no writing on the pages, and the outside breeze blew them peacefully across the floor.

The apartment was like a blank canvas. It was as if a ghost had lived here and was trying to speak—yet could only hint at its presence.

Though Thor wanted to dismiss the idea that his brother would ever live in such a place, all it took was to walk over to the unmade bed and take hold of the lifeless pillow. Thor lifted it to his nose, inhaled, and his throat went tight with emotion. His brother's scent was ingrained in his memory. It brought his face to Thor's mind as clearly as if he was standing right there.

_Loki_.

His brother had been here. This was his pillow, and it was still warm to the touch.

In a sudden rush for answers, Thor felt the tangled mess of sheets and then the mattress before deciding that the warmth wasn't in his imagination.

"He was just here," he called into the other room. "The bed is still warm to the touch." His voice was thick with weariness and grief. He was physically exhausted from months of searching without much rest but far more fatigued in his heart from the worry. More than anything, Thor wanted to find Loki safe and sound. Then he could rest.

The tracker entered the bedroom. "He must have detected our approach and fled. He won't have gotten far."

Thor shook his head. "Loki can slip between worlds and hide behind illusions. He is all too cunning when it comes to escape. Why do you think it's taken us so long to find even a trace of him?"

"He's weakened and growing more so by the day. I doubt he's capable of magic at the moment—at least not any that would outwit me."

The tracker held out his hand, and Thor reluctantly passed the pillow over. "What do you mean to do?"

After giving it a contemplative sniff, the tracker extended his palm over the pillow and whispered words of power. A chill went through Thor at the sound. He was used to magic, having grown up in a family of practitioners, but the tracker's sei_ð_r seemed darker somehow. When he used it, Thor always thought he smelled traces of sulfur.

At the tracker's bidding, a golden light lifted from the pillow. It was transparent and faint, glowing and changing like candlelight. It hovered for a moment, and then the tracker sent it forth with another whispered command.

It was Loki's trail, Thor realized. No wonder the tracker had such a high success rate, if this was in his bag of tricks. The golden wisp of light traveled across the bedroom, scattering the blank pages as it flew to the open balcony doors. Thor's lips parted in dismay, and he hurried to look over the railing at the streets below. Had Loki jumped? Not that Thor considered his brother to be suicidal, but he had never thought Loki was the type to run away either.

"Wait for it," the tracker said. "The spell is still unfolding."

Relief flooded through Thor when he saw the golden light move away from the balcony and double back through the bedroom. It seemed to follow the exact path Loki had taken when he'd fled the apartment, stopping first at the empty closet—(had Loki taken something from inside?)—and then moving toward the living room.

As they followed it, Thor asked, "What did you mean before? You said my brother was weakened. How can you know that?"

"I merely looked around," the tracker replied. "A bit hard to miss. No food. Empty cupboards, and the refrigerator can't function without electricity. The sink is bone dry, so my guess is the water doesn't work either. There's nothing here to keep him alive unless he leaves the apartment on foot to secure supplies. But from the look of the dust on the floor, it's only been walked across once in the last week. That took place about five minutes ago."

Thor blinked at the ground, where the trail passed over a faint set of footprints in the dust. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the golden wisp did not seem to move with much energy.

"If he's dehydrated and malnourished, his sei_ð_r will be sluggish to respond," the tracker said. "That is, if he's capable of calling upon it at all. That will work in our favor. It's time we closed in on our prey."

Thor's gaze darkened. Though he absolutely hated when the tracker used that word, Thor did not correct him. Far too many months had passed with no answers and very little in the way of hope. "I'm with you."

* * *

><p>The Midgardian moon was larger than Thor's memories of it, hanging low and sickly yellow in the light pollution. His eyes strained to see the stars to help him determine the direction they were facing, but their distant twinkle was no match for the glare of a city that refused to sleep.<p>

It was a dizzying place, full of distracting sights and a conflicting myriad of smells. One street stank of sewage and refuse and the next of savory meat and sauce. As the exotic spices tingled Thor's nose, his stomach felt unsettled from the contradictions. His mind tried to remember his brother's scent but could not seem to retrieve it. His hands clenched and unclenched as if in want of something to fill them.

Why would Loki have even come to such a place? He hated the raucous racket and filth of lesser realms. He felt the Midgardians were uncultured and unrefined, so why choose to live among them? None of it made any sense.

"Can you tell if he's close?" Thor asked.

"Not far ahead of us, I'd wager," the tracker said. "Stay sharp. If we see him, we must act quickly in the event he puts up a fight." He reached behind his shoulder and pulled a heavily modified rifle free from the straps of a leather pack he kept on his back.

Thor's pace slowed momentarily, and he had to push to catch up. He'd seen the tracker use that weapon against the more unsavory creatures they'd encountered in foreign realms. Each time it was fired, the effect was different—from a poisonous dart that killed the victim slowly to a bullet capable of leaving a hole the size of a fist in an enemy's forehead. Thor had no idea how it worked or what enchantments might be laid upon it, nor did he understand how the tracker meant to utilize such a weapon now, in a peaceful realm. The city dwellers did not seem to notice the rifle, leaving Thor to speculate whether or not they could even see it.

"I agree Loki must be found, but do not forget he is a prince of Asgard—not to mention my brother. You will not bring him to harm."

"He is worthless to me dead," the tracker said. "Your father wants the prince returned to Asgard alive, so that is what he shall receive. But if my gut instinct is right—and it usually is—your brother will not come willingly. You need to prepare yourself to witness a struggle."

"Then it is _me_ he will struggle against." The edge in Thor's voice left little room for discussion on the matter. "Put away your weapon."

Several moments of tense silence passed between them. "You run the risk of losing him."

"And you run the risk of exhausting what little remains of my patience."

The tracker chuckled without humor but holstered his rifle in the straps of his pack once again. "Very well. Take the lead, if you think you can catch him. Let's see how good a hunter you truly are."

Though they were both dressed in Midgardian attire in an effort to blend in, Thor still received a fair amount of attention. His size and glower inspired pedestrians to move out of his way as he jogged down the sidewalk. The tracker followed just behind. No one seemed to notice the golden wisp of light weaving through the crowd ahead of them. It danced right and left, indicating Loki had been forced to dodge between oncoming pedestrians in his escape. Eventually, it paused at the front of a liquor store and lingered there long enough to puzzle Thor.

"He stopped to catch his breath," the tracker explained. "I told you. He's weak."

"All the more reason to find him quickly," Thor said. "Can you speed up the advancement of the spell? At this rate, we'll always be five minutes behind him. More, if his head start is greater than we assumed."

"Oh, I doubt that," the tracker said with a cryptic smile. The florescent light from the store's sign glinted electric blue off of the whites of his eyes.

The golden wisp had started to move again, its progression much slower this time. It seemed to trudge toward an alleyway between the liquor store and the apartment building next to it. The tracker made a gesture, and the spell vanished from the air just before it could slip into the shadows. "On your guard," he said. "Your brother is hiding in that alley. Still resting, it would seem."

It was all Thor could do not to rush forward to verify this claim for himself. Together, they crept toward the mouth of the alley and stopped. A recent rain had dampened the pavement beneath their feet, and tiny ripples went through any puddle they tread upon. They had to choose each step carefully, if they wished to remain undetected. Thor sent up a little prayer before he dared a glimpse into the darkness.

A light at the end of the alleyway revealed only Loki's silhouette. His shadow stretched out long before him as though he was unconsciously reaching for his brother. Loki leaned against the liquor store's brick exterior, looking utterly exhausted. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back and resting against the building, and his chest moved up and down a little too fast.

Though Thor couldn't see his brother's face, he would recognize the familiar lines of Loki's profile anywhere. His Adam's apple bobbed, his lips spread apart to allow for easier breathing. Thor took a step into the alley, quickly followed by another. This was it. The hour had come to confront his brother and put a stop to this endless search. It was time for Loki to come home.

"You're making a mistake," the tracker muttered.

Thor did not bother to respond. His attention was only for his brother. He crept as silently as he could into the alleyway but soon could bear it no longer.

"Loki?" he called softly. A question; a plea.

Loki's head jerked up in alarm, and the light caught his face.

Thor stopped walking and thought: _No_.

No, that could not be his brother.

Loki would never be that gaunt or pale. The hollow places beneath his cheekbones were far too deep. The shadows, too pronounced. The Midgardian clothing fit him all wrong— the bones of his shoulders prominent beneath the fabric of an iron gray t-shirt, the creases revealing a frame far too slight to belong to a prince. The hair was too long and disheveled—limp curls that barely skimmed his shoulders. There was not a hint of confidence, poise, or dignity to be found.

No, this wasn't right at all. Loki was a warrior. A prince of Asgard. Tall and ramrod straight. Slender, perhaps, but always healthy. Always taking Thor by surprise with hidden stores of strength. Graceful, clever, well-groomed, unspeakably witty.

In comparison, this Loki seemed like a complete stranger, but though Thor's brain rejected his appearance, he knew in his heart it was him. When Loki's eyes locked with Thor's, a look of abject fear crossed his face. He took in a sharp breath and pushed away from the wall.

"Brother?" Thor said, lifting both hands to show that he was no threat. He hadn't even brought Mjölnir along, choosing instead to leave it at the apartment. His voice wavered with uncertainty. "Please, Loki. It's only me. I've come to take you home."

Loki stumbled backwards two steps, his right hand extended and filling with power. He reared back, teeth gritted, and threw a concentrated wave of sei_ð_r at his brother.

Brick exploded just to the left of Thor's head. Simultaneously, there was a flash of light and a loud _bang_ that left his ears ringing. In the time it took to flinch away from the flying pieces of brick, Loki had disappeared. Thor cursed and turned in circles, but could not determine what direction his brother had chosen. The tracker had been mistaken about Loki's ability to tap into his magic.

The golden wisp of the spell flew through the alleyway with the tracker running just behind. His rifle was once again in his hand. "Come on," he hissed as he passed. "He's too weak to teleport. We can still catch him."

It took Thor a few moments to wrap his mind around what had just happened—that his brother had recognized him, attacked him, and then fled. But _why?_

Thor had difficulty accepting that Loki would leave Asgard behind simply because he'd learned he was adopted. When Loki had first gone missing, Frigga had appeared to Thor during his exile on Midgard, wringing her hands with worry, and asked if he'd seen any sign of his brother. Heimdall could not seem to find him, no matter where he turned his gaze. Thor soon forgot about his own stubborn pride and willfulness, and after his focus shifted to his brother instead, it was not long before he was able to once again lift Mjölnir and join the search for Loki.

Odin had awoken from his sleep not long after that and was able to shed some light on the final conversation he'd had with Loki before his disappearance. The guards were the last in Asgard to see the missing prince, and they had revealed how frightened he'd looked. Did Loki think he was in trouble for Odin's fall into illness? Surely it had to be something irrational like that, for there was nothing to fear from his family. Though Odin was very quiet on the matter of his adopted son, Thor knew his father well enough to understand he was troubled over that final conversation with Loki. Spending a small fortune on the tracker's talents was evidence of the All-Father's desire to make things right again.

When his parents revealed to Thor the truth about Loki's origins, he could not lift his weapon for three days. Not because Mjölnir had deemed him unworthy but because Thor made that judgment upon himself. There was such a tangled web of misunderstanding, ignorance, and lies, it took time for him to see his way through it and arrive at the simple truth that none of it mattered. Loki was his brother, and Thor loved him and saw him no differently than he had before. Didn't Loki know they were still family? He'd behaved like Thor meant to harm him. Like this truly was a_ hunt_.

A memory surfaced in Thor's mind—of slashing an imaginary sword in the air while his little brother watched with a vague smile on his face. Thor had promised to track every last frost giant down and slay them all where they stood.

Surely, Loki didn't think . . . ?

Thor swallowed with difficulty and followed after the tracker with newfound determination. This had to stop.

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><p>Loki's trail directed them to the subway. As they crept down the stairs that led to the underground platform, the tracker cloaked them with invisibility and silenced the sound of their footfalls, breathing, and whispers. Loki would not be able to see or hear them coming.<p>

_This isn't fair_, Thor thought to himself. Though it was not beyond Loki to resort to such trickery himself, it felt dishonest to Thor to deceive his brother in such a way. It would certainly help their chances of capturing him, but at what cost to Loki's trust?

"Perhaps I could attempt to speak with him again," Thor said. He tried not to breathe, for the air was stale and unpleasant, stinking of urine and unwashed pavement. "I think . . . it was like he was afraid of me. He doesn't understand we mean him no harm."

"Did you see his face?" the tracker said. "He's more likely to kill you out of fear than listen to reason."

Thor looked at him sharply. "My brother would never hurt me. That is ridiculous."

"In case you failed to notice, he attacked you."

"Yes—and missed on purpose. It was a distraction so that he could slip away. Locate him, as you have been charged to do, but then you leave Loki to me. I do not care for the way you speak of him, as though he's some kind of criminal or beast to be hunted."

The tracker spared him a brief sideways glance. "If I may suggest securing your brother before making an attempt to reason with him. He's not going to listen unless he has no choice, and I have no desire to bring a pair of bodies back to your father."

"Bring Loki to harm, and the last thing you will have to worry about is facing my father."

The tracker did not react to this threat in any way, which only made Thor want to fortify it with another. He fumed as he followed the man through the platform. Somewhere up ahead came the sound of a woman's voice speaking in Spanish, though Thor could not see her. The All-Tongue revealed that she was begging anyone who might be listening to repent of their sins, for the end of all things was close at hand.

There was no one else on the platform save for a middle-aged man, who was dressed in threadbare clothing and wrapped in a blanket that stunk of mildew. He sat on the floor with the wall against his back, and there was a small cup of coins beside him. Thor looked him hard in the face, wondering if he was Loki disguised with an illusion.

The tracker, however, had little interest in the man and passed him by without a second glance. He approached the tracks and sniffed the air. "He's close. See that movement in the air just over there by the wall? His sei_ð_r is failing him."

Thor looked and after a moment of searching, noticed an area of wavering space about twenty paces away from them. It was the size of a man, and the golden wisp of light hovered just in front of him, presumably unseen.

"Do not approach just yet," the tracker said. "There are still too many places for him to run. Wait for the train to lend a distraction."

Thor's heart ached at the realization that Loki was so close—that he was weakened and afraid, yet hiding from Thor like they were sworn enemies instead of brothers. Thor simultaneously wanted to embrace Loki and then throttle him for being so thoughtless. Did he have any idea what his disappearance had done to his family? Anger and longing battled for position at the forefront of Thor's thoughts.

"Steady," the tracker said. "Here comes the train. If he gets on it, we follow and take him in the car. If he doesn't, we use the train as a distraction and grab him here. He should be nearly drained at this point."

Thor's frown deepened. "What do you mean? Loki is no amateur. He can hold an illusion for hours without expending much energy at all."

The tracker didn't reply, which did not sit well with Thor. He was about to demand an explanation when a gust of hot air hit him from behind and blew his hair into his face. A rumble could be heard in the distance, though moving fast. Thor glanced at the tunnel, registered the approach of the train, and then returned his gaze to the place where his brother stood. He was surprised to see that Loki's form had nearly taken shape. Just as the train shot out of the tunnel and screeched to a halt in front of them, Thor watched his brother materialize fully.

The homeless man tilted his head to one side, as if trying to determine if he'd really just witnessed someone appear out of thin air.

The tracker was right. Loki's sei_ð_r seemed to be failing him. He could no longer conceal himself and did not seem to be aware that Thor was so close.

Loki looked ill with fatigue, and his brow was dotted with sweat. He glanced around, face full of weary trepidation, and staggered toward the open doors of the subway train. He gripped his shoulder like it was injured, and indeed, there was blood on his shirt.

"What did you do to him?" Thor growled through his teeth.

"Move," the tracker hissed back. "On the train. Quickly."

Loki entered the first car he encountered, and Thor and the tracker slipped silently into the one just behind it, keeping an eye on their target through the open doorway between their cars. They were the only passengers in sight. The overhead lights flickered when the train began to move and pick up speed. Thor steadied himself by holding on to one of the metal poles positioned on either side of him, and he watched with a sick feeling in his gut as his brother dropped into a forward-facing seat as if he couldn't walk another step without falling.

Thor grabbed hold of the tracker's shoulder, thus preventing any attempt at forward movement. "I will ask you one more time before I lose my temper entirely. What did you do to my brother?"

"I shot him in the alley, just as he was attacking you," the tracker said, as if nothing could be more obvious. "The noise was quite loud. Didn't you notice?"

Thor _had_ noticed but had assumed the bang and flash of light were a result of his brother's attack on him. It seemed both had originated from the rifle. Thor's fingers dug into the tracker's shoulder. "Shot him with what?"

"A dart, though it seems he's managed to pull it out. It was laced with an enchantment of my own making, designed to slowly drain his energy. If we do not capture him within the hour and neutralize the spell, it will eventually weaken him to death. Your choice if you'd prefer to stay here and chat while he sits there, wasting away."

Thor released the tracker and shoved him roughly to the side. "I go first. You will not touch him again except to remove the enchantment. Do you understand?"

As the tracker caught himself and straightened, his lips twisted into a dangerous smile. "After you."

With his thoughts dark with worry, Thor inched closer to his brother, his eyes fixed on the dark head that rested against the train's window. Though Loki could not see or hear them, Thor knew his brother had excellent instincts. It would not take much to alert him of their presence.

When Thor decided to act, he moved quickly—rushing forward and reaching to capture Loki's arm before he could again slip away. But when Thor's fingers encountered only empty air, he realized he'd been tricked. Loki's illusion looked Thor right in the eye—green eyes sad and hauntingly beautiful against his pale complexion—before he faded from sight, leaving nothing behind but an empty seat.

"On your left!" the tracker shouted. He was blocking the rear doorway, rifle in hand.

An unexpected breeze stirred Thor's hair as if someone unseen was rushing past him. He reached out blindly, and his fingers encountered flesh and bone. Though Thor couldn't see his brother, there was no mistaking the sound of Loki crying out in alarm. As he attempted to twist away and escape, Thor barreled into his brother from behind and tackled him down to the aisle. When they hit the ground, both illusions faded away, revealing the brothers grappling and fighting for purchase.

"Loki, _stop_," Thor cried as he tried to pin his brother's arms down. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

This did little good. Loki fought him _hard_, using his fists, nails, teeth, and the heels of his shoes to inspire his brother to let go. But as much as his muscles strained with every ounce of strength in his possession, Loki was no match for Thor.

"Let go of me!" Loki demanded through clenched teeth. There was a desperate edge to the words, as if he feared his captors meant to do something terrible to him. He knew he was losing and began to fight impossibly harder.

"Loki, please!" Thor tightened his hold on his brother's wrists, even as Loki's efforts to get away dragged them ever closer to the doors. "You must calm down and listen to me. I mean you no harm. I would never—" He trailed off when he registered that the tracker had lifted his rifle and was taking aim. Thor's limbs went numb with fear. "No! No, you stand d—"

The tracker fired, and the sound of the shot ricocheted off of the enclosed walls of the train car, amplified tenfold. Loki and Thor cried out at the same time, but only Loki went limp, his fingers straining toward a small dart that was buried in his thigh. The narrow body was gold and covered in runes. Thor released Loki's wrist and yanked the dart out of his leg.

Loki's eyes swam like he was drunk, and his head fell back. While he didn't lose consciousness, he went perfectly silent, his eyelids fluttering as he stared up at the ceiling. Tears streamed from the outer corners of his eyes and slipped down to his ears.

"It's a tranquilizer," the tracker said as he lowered his weapon. "And you're welcome."

Thor might have murdered the man if not for the fact that his little brother was at long last in his arms. Despite his frail appearance, Loki was breathing steadily and seemed to only be weakened past the ability to fight or move. Thor hauled him to his chest and pressed his mouth to his brother's hair, so angry and relieved that his eyes welled up with tears.

"Remove the enchantment," Thor ordered quietly. "Do it now before I tear your limbs from your body."

The tracker again did not react to the threat. With a self-satisfied look on his face, he knelt beside the brothers, bowed his head in concentration, and lifted one hand. After a few whispered words, Loki jolted slightly in Thor's arms and then gave a little moan of relief. He melted against his brother, his cheek dragging down the neckline of Thor's shirt.

"It's all right," Thor whispered, gathering Loki as close as he could manage. "You're safe. I promise, you're safe. Oh, Loki." He kissed his brother's hair and drew his scent deep into his lungs. "I finally found you."

The tracker got to his feet and stood over them, weapon still in hand, guarding his prize as the train began to slow in anticipation of the next stop.

* * *

><p>To be continued.<p>

Notes: Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you thought if you have a few moments.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes**: Follow me on tumblr (username pro-antagonist) to hear about updates.

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><p><em>Loki scrubbed the rough bristles of a nailbrush across his knuckles until they were raw and almost bleeding. Water from the sink's faucet poured over his hands, so hot that it had turned his skin a blistering shade of red. The steam had fogged up the washroom's golden-framed mirror, but Loki's teeth chattered as if he were frozen to the core.<em>

_His thoughts raced with questions. Jumped to conclusions. Backtracked when other possibilities presented themselves. All of it ran together until his mind was comprised of pure noise, and though he clamped his hands over his ears to drown it out, he could not escape the flood. He was the one drowning._

_Instinct told him to go straight to Frigga, who could clarify everything Odin had so inadequately explained before his collapse. His mother's gentle voice would soothe Loki's fears and assure him of his rightful place as her son._

_Only Frigga was not Loki's mother._

_He could think of no possible scenario where she was anything but a master deceiver. Her honeyed words were sweetened only to help him swallow the hidden bitterness of every spoon-fed lie. She had nourished him in this way for centuries._

_Loki looked up at the mirror—at the way droplets of condensation streaked down his reflection, distorting the familiar lines of his face. Like the markings of a J__ö__tunn. He flinched and continued to scrub at his already clean hands._

_No, he would not go to Frigga._

* * *

><p>"Watcher!" the tracker called to the clouds, which hung so low that they concealed the tops of the skyscrapers. They had rolled in from the east and swallowed the Midgardian moon. "Open the path to Asgard. The lost prince is tagged and detained."<p>

Thor glared at him from behind, barely-controlled rage blazing in his eyes. What did the tracker mean by 'tagged'? If not for Thor's need to attend to his brother, the tracker would be little more than a bloody stain on the subway platform beneath the city.

Loki groaned, and his head fell forward. His hair was so greasy that it appeared wet, and the limp strands hid his face from sight.

Thor readjusted his hold on his brother in an effort to keep him from wilting to the sidewalk. One of Loki's arms was slung over Thor's neck, and he held onto Loki's wrist to keep it secured there. Thor further supported his brother with an arm wrapped around his waist and had half-carried him up the subway stairs to the streets above.

His mind reeled as he registered how much weight Loki had lost. He could barely stand, much less endure the physical strain of traveling via the Bifröst. Even if Loki hadn't expended every last shred of energy trying to get away from Thor, the sedative still lingered in his bloodstream.

"Watcher!" the tracker shouted again.

Though they stood on a quiet street devoid of many pedestrians, the tracker still attracted the attention from the few individuals in the vicinity. A pair of businessmen out for a late night drink jaywalked to the other side of the street to avoid crossing their path.

The tracker reared around to face Thor. "Why doesn't your Watchman answer? The All-Father owes me the other half of my payment, and I mean to collect it tonight."

The pace of Loki's breaths first faltered and then quickened. He had realized where they meant to take him and was beginning to panic again. Thor tightened his hold on him and took note of the tracker's stance, which was tensed as if ready to reach for his rifle. If there was one thing Thor had neither the time nor patience for, it was putting up with this insubordination for another second.

"Heimdall, get him out of my sight," Thor said.

Immediately, the Bifröst split the sky open with a crack of sound and light. As the blinding spectrum of color fell over the tracker and pulled him up into the heavens, every car alarm in the immediate area went off. The lights on the city block flickered and failed. The pair of businessmen stopped to stare in amazement before turning to flee in the opposite direction.

Heimdall had only taken the tracker, leaving Thor and Loki behind on Midgard. But when the light of the Bifröst faded, the Queen of Asgard was left standing on the sidewalk in the tracker's place.

Frigga was dressed in Midgardian clothing, her shoulders and arms covered in a sage-green wrap. Her pants flowed like a skirt around her legs, and her hair was neatly braided and fell over one shoulder where it stretched toward the front of her waist. Her face looked older than it had one year ago, and there were new strands of gray hair at her temples. Still, despite the worry and anxiousness that pulled the corners of her mouth downward, hope shone in her eyes.

"Loki," she whispered as she rushed forward.

Thor relaxed and smiled gratefully up at the sky. "Thank you, old friend."

* * *

><p>Steam filled every inch of the tiny bathroom in Loki's apartment. There was hardly enough room for two grown men to occupy the space together, much less two gods. A solitary light-bulb positioned above the mirror gave off an inadequate amount of light, but Thor was glad the apartment now had electricity and hot, running water at all. Frigga had worked some sort of magic and had all the utilities turned on. That was the first of many battles and perhaps the simplest.<p>

"Loki, please stop fighting me," Thor said for the fourth time in ten minutes. "It's a bath. Not water-torture."

They stood together in the shower. Loki had refused to get in, and Thor had literally been forced to drag his brother under the stream of water. Loki was filthy, his skin and clothing covered in mud and dirt from his flight through the wet city streets and struggle with Thor in the subway car.

Thor had managed to peel off his brother's t-shirt before getting him into the shower, but Loki still wore a pair of faded black jeans. They sagged low and wet, and the sharp jut of his hipbones was barely adequate support to hold them up. Soapsuds journeyed down the prominent spaces between his rib bones and toward the hard, inward curve of his stomach.

"Get _away_ from me," Loki hissed. His struggling was fierce enough to knock the bar of soap out of Thor's hands.

But when Thor released his brother's arm, Loki only slid down the shower wall like he couldn't stand any longer. He sat hard on the tile floor and wrapped his arms around his legs. Water beat at the top of his bowed head and trembling shoulders.

Seeing his little brother so utterly defeated made it difficult for Thor to hold on to any anger or irritation for more than a few seconds. He knelt beside Loki and retrieved the bar of soap from where it had fallen near the drain. Thor was still fully dressed, for he hadn't anticipated having to get into the shower _with_ _Loki_. Every scrap of fabric Thor wore was now waterlogged, but that was the least of his worries.

As gently as he could manage, he washed Loki's skin. Thor's heart sank ever lower when he realized not all of the discoloration was a result of dirt. There were ugly bruises developing on Loki's wrists and elsewhere on his body from wrestling with Thor in an attempt to get away. The worst bruise by far was on Loki's shoulder, where the tracker had hit him with the first dart. It looked like he'd been struck by a bolt of lightning, and angry red marks spread away from the point of impact like twisting vines. Thor was willing to bet there was a similar mark on Loki's thigh.

Since when was he so prone to bruising? Such things were easy enough to mend but were disquieting all the same. Loki was not well, mentally or physically. At all.

Once Loki's skin was adequately clean save for his lower half, which couldn't be reached with his jeans still on, Thor poured some fragrant shampoo into his palm and prepared to wash his brother's hair.

Frigga had provided the shampoo, along with everything else in the bathroom—clean towels that smelled of sunshine, a rug to keep them from slipping on the linoleum, and new clothing that sat neatly folded and waiting on the sink. She'd arranged for all of it to be delivered to the apartment, which had happened with surprising speed. She and several attendants from Asgard were still moving items into the other rooms. Loki could not return home until he was stronger, and Frigga meant to make him as comfortable as possible until that hour came.

But first, Loki had to get clean. When Thor began to work the shampoo through his brother's hair, Loki's head popped up. There was a murderous look in his eyes that might have annoyed Thor were his heart not in the process of breaking.

"Loki," Thor sighed.

"Get," Loki said through his teeth, water dripping from his chin. "Out."

The resulting struggle to wash Loki's hair lasted five terribly long minutes. Then Thor had to do it all over again when he still wasn't satisfied with the results. Loki fought him every step of the way, his outrage helping him tap into hidden stores of strength.

Thor was convinced half of Midgard could hear Loki cursing at him. By the end of it, the tiles on the shower floor were cracked, and there was surely water leaking into the neighbor's bathroom downstairs. Thor had defeated warlords with far less effort than this. But at long last, Loki was clean, and Thor hung his head with relief as he shut off the water.

Loki got out of the shower the first second he was allowed, shaking with anger and from the cold. He refused to look at his brother.

Thor eyed him warily as he reached for a towel. "Take those off. Mother brought you clean clothes to wear."

Loki unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off furiously. Thor's gaze fell to his brother's thigh, where he confirmed that there was another appalling mark left there from the tracker's second dart. Thor was so distracted by his fury over this that he didn't see Loki bundling up his wet jeans into a ball and then throwing them right into his older brother's face.

Thor blinked in astonishment as he watched Loki saunter off into the bedroom, dripping wet and naked as the day he was born.

* * *

><p>In the dimly lit stillness of the bedroom, Thor found his brother lying on a barren corner of the mattress, facing away and curled in on himself. He stared straight ahead at the twin balcony doors, which were now shut and locked. The city lights twinkled at him through the rain-speckled windows.<p>

The bedroom had been transformed in a bewildering amount of time. There was new furniture, softly glowing lamps on the nightstands, and clothing hanging in the closet. The pile of loose paper Thor had previously noticed on the floor was stacked neatly beside the lamp, with a pen placed on top. The room was unrecognizable. Only Frigga could have pulled off such a feat in less than an hour. She must have called upon an army of palace servants to come to Loki's aid, but if they were still in the apartment, they were occupied elsewhere. The door was closed, and the bedroom empty of anyone except the brothers. Thor heard only unobtrusive shuffling and the occasional murmur of voices in the other room.

The rickety metal-frame bed had been replaced with something larger and sturdier. The new bed was constructed of heavy wood, and the mattress was piled high with down-filled blankets and endless pillows. Loki had shoved every single one of them to the opposite side of the bed and had even pulled the sheets partially free from the mattress before lying down, intent on being miserable and expressing his dissatisfaction in any way he could.

_Leave me alone_, he seemed to say. _All of you._

Thor stood there for a minute and watched him, still trying to wrap his mind around the complete change in his brother. Loki had always been emotional—but not like this. He was the type to strive harder when confronted with a challenge or setback. It was always so important to him to prove to others that he was capable.

Only now, Loki appeared frozen, unwilling to exert the energy to even dry himself off before he'd collapsed into bed. Had Thor been the one to demonstrate such carelessness, the Loki he once knew would have fussed at him and demanded he show some self-respect. Thor had never seen his brother not care about anything to this degree. The light had gone out of his eyes.

Though he was still soaking wet himself, Thor brought a towel over to the bed and began to dry his brother's skin, starting first at his injured shoulder and then working down the curve of his back. He captured the water droplets that collected in the dips and hollows of Loki's body and along the conspicuously prominent path of his spine. The room held only a slight chill, but Loki trembled as though he were freezing. Thor could not help but notice that there were no goose-bumps on his skin. Was he frightened?

Once he was done drying Loki off, Thor pulled the blanket over his brother and tucked him in. "Try to relax," he said.

"Go to Hel," Loki muttered back.

The brothers had engaged in centuries of unending bickering, just like any other siblings, and so Thor paid little attention to Loki's words. He'd heard them before, sometimes tossed in his direction as a joke, other times with considerably more heat. However, Thor had never heard Loki say them in that tone. Quiet and resigned. It was enough to inspire Thor to stop what he was doing and stare. Several long moments of silence passed before he remembered himself and set about working again.

Loki's hair was a mess of tangled curls that dripped into his face. He flinched as water streaked past his eyes but did not move to wipe it away. Thor worked the towel through his brother's hair and did his best to get most of the moisture out. A year ago, Loki would have simply dried it with a spell and laughed at Thor's inability to do the same.

"None of it matters to me, you know," Thor said, tucking a damp strand behind Loki's ear. "Where you were born. Who your birth parents are." The words did not come to him easily and seemed so inadequate compared to all he felt inside. He wasn't prepared to have this conversation yet but had to say something.

"How convenient for you." Loki shut his eyes. "To not have to care."

Thor's face heated; that wasn't what he'd meant at all. "You are still my brother."

Loki gave a tired chuckle. And then the most painful look of grief crossed his face—chin dimpled and quivering, his eyes squeezing together ever tighter, as if to block something out he couldn't help but witness in his mind—before he again fell silent.

* * *

><p>When Thor finally left the bedroom, he was in a daze for more reasons than one. It took him a few seconds to even recognize that the living room was the same dark, vacant place he'd stood in just a few hours ago with the tracker, thinking Loki would never step foot here.<p>

Frigga had worked miracles with the cramped apartment. The wood floors had been cleaned until they shone, and a lush fur rug was arranged in the middle. Servants had brought in furniture—cushy leather couches, carefully arranged tables, and lighting to make the most of the tight space. There was even a bookcase, which held a portion of Loki's well-loved collection. Though his tastes were typically more sophisticated than this, it seemed Frigga had chosen items meant to provide comfort rather than demonstrate much style or refinement. Thor immediately felt at home and hoped Loki would feel the same.

Food had also been delivered from Asgard's kitchens, and the cabinets and refrigerator were now stocked with anything the brothers might want—from fruit to sliced meats and breads. On the counter was a small rack of nicely aged wine, which Loki preferred over mead, and beside it was a plate of his favorite pastries that glistened with honey.

Frigga had just finished putting away a small assortment of dishes, goblets, and silverware, and she seemed frustrated with the limited space she had to work with. The apartment smelled wonderfully of cinnamon and cloves, and there was a pot of liquid simmering on the stove that appeared to be the source. Orange rinds and star anise floated on the surface. After Frigga closed the final cabinet, she moved to stir the pot.

Thor couldn't help but smile at how quickly his mother had warmed up the place. Loki had not given her the most gracious of welcomes. When she'd descended from Asgard and rushed over to embrace her lost son, Loki had flinched away from her like she'd meant to attack him. This had puzzled Thor at the time, but Frigga had responded to it with grace, demonstrating nothing but love and patience as they brought Loki back to his apartment to recover. Only now could Thor see the traces of grief and hurt in his mother's face, revealed only when she was certain Loki would not see.

"Have the servants all gone?" Thor asked.

"The last one left a few minutes ago. It should be quieter now so that he can sleep." Frigga glanced up at her eldest son briefly but then did a double take. "_Thor_," she said, her tone mildly scolding. "You're dripping on the clean floor. How did you get so wet?"

With a sigh, Thor glanced in the direction of Loki's bedroom, which was answer enough. Surely his mother had heard the cursing. "He's clean now, but his hair is in tangles. I can't find anything to comb them out."

Frigga gave the liquid one final stir and set the spoon aside. "I will come tend to him soon. Now that I see what he needs, I can bring more supplies tomorrow."

It was difficult to believe the apartment could hold anything else. It was practically bursting with comfort. "No one could have done a better job," Thor said.

She walked over to him with an affectionate smile and placed a hand on his cheek. Her sei_ð_r washed over him in a warm wave, and Thor was left perfectly dry a moment later. Even his clothing felt as though it had been hanging outside in the summer sun all day long. Thor covered her hand with his own and returned her smile. "Is that mulled wine you're making?"

"His favorite." Frigga's voice seemed to tremble as though she were nervous. "I used to make it for him whenever he was sick or unable to sleep."

"I remember," Thor said. "He's cold, so I think it will help."

Her smile widened in appreciation of the encouragement, but it was strained. "I added a little something extra to aid in restoring his strength. It's in the aroma, for I doubt he will actually drink any of the wine."

"He's all right," Thor assured her. "Only bruised from our struggle."

"Now you know better than to lie to your mother." Frigga patted his cheek once and turned back toward the kitchenette. She picked up a small, unlabeled jar from the counter and held it out to him. "This is an ointment for his bruises. It should heal the minor ones overnight, and the others in a day or so. Apply it every four hours until they've faded."

Thor accepted the jar from her. "You do not mean to stay?"

She sighed and looked around for something to occupy herself with, but everything was done. "Loki is very angry with me right now. I feel it best to give him time and space to work through that. You were unaware of the truth until recently and have never lied to him the way your father and I have. I think out of all of us, Loki will open up to you the most."

Thor didn't feel as certain about that, for Loki was clearly angry with him as well. "And what of father? Will he come?"

One of Frigga's eyebrows lifted. "Your father is busy dealing with _him_. Once that is done, I will ask him if he means to visit Loki before his return to Asgard."

Thor nodded, understanding that Frigga spoke of the tracker. He hoped the All-Father had him publicly denounced for his treatment of a prince of Asgard. "How long until Loki is strong enough to travel?"

"That depends on his willingness to strengthen. I can bring him every scrap of food in the palace kitchens, but that does not mean Loki will eat. And even if his body is eventually able to undertake the journey, his mind may not be ready. Forcing him to return would only make Asgard feel like a prison, and he would leave again at the first opportunity."

Thor's frown deepened. "What do I do to help him want to return to us? He won't even look at me. It's as though he's not even there."

"He's there," Frigga said, "though hiding very deep inside of his own head. He will need to be coaxed out. We must meet his basic needs, first and foremost. Food, shelter, and rest. And with that, he will require mountains of patience, unconditional love, and to know without a shadow of doubt what he means to you."

"I don't understand how he doesn't know that already." Thor swallowed and looked at the ground, ashamed of his own thoughts. "It makes me angry. He ran away, and we didn't know if he was alive or dead for an entire _year_. I understand why he's upset at learning the truth after so many centuries of thinking otherwise, but it certainly didn't call for _this_."

"Once he's better recovered, I think you should tell him that," Frigga said. "Though not quite yet. Not until we've reestablished some trust with him. I know his actions don't make sense to you right now, but when you're struggling to understand, look at his face and know that the pain is very real to him. Your brother is hurting."

"And how do I fix that? It's like trying to fight an enemy I can't see."

Frigga brushed Thor's hair out of his eyes and touched his face so that he would look at her again. "You are such a brave boy. I know you will find a way. Start by listening to your brother, and don't judge or discount what he's feeling. You might see his viewpoints as irrational, but that doesn't mean they don't feel real to him. Guide him to the truth to diffuse misconceptions rather than arguing with him—or simply don't say anything at all. Sometimes listening without speaking is best. Loki has always responded well to physical touch. Put your arm around him. Rub his back. That sort of thing. His thoughts often race and pull him out of the present moment, but whenever I would cuddle him as a child, it's as though he would wake up and remember I was there."

Thor turned the jar of ointment over and over in his hands as he considered his mother's counsel. Though he still wasn't convinced it would be enough, he said, "I will do my best to bring him home soon."

"I know you will." Frigga stretched out her arms, and they embraced, taking comfort in something solid when so much else had fallen apart around them. "You are a good son and brother. Thank you for taking care of him while I'm unable."

* * *

><p>They went to Loki together so that Frigga could say her goodbyes. He had not budged since Thor had left him. Loki was still lying on his side, blinking at the balcony doors as if not seeing them at all. His vision seemed to stop a few inches in front of his eyes.<p>

Frigga released Thor's hand and sat down on the bed beside her youngest son. She placed a steaming cup of mulled wine on the nightstand, and the scent soon permeated the room with its restorative powers. As she smoothed Loki's damp hair away from his face, sei_ð_r flowed from her fingers to untangle and dry the strands. Soon his hair fell in soft, clean waves onto the pillow.

"When you were a baby," Frigga told him, "your father brought you to me bundled up tight in a blanket, not so different from this one." She tucked the down blanket around him. "I knew the second you were placed in my arms that you were mine. I held you against me all night long and kept you warm while you slept. For nine months, I would not let anyone take you from me. I wanted you to know my heartbeat and the sound of my voice so that you would understand I was your mother. I wanted that connection with you—to nurture you so that you would always recognize me and feel safe. You are my child, Loki. I love you very much and am so grieved that I've hurt you. I will ask for your forgiveness now but know you will need time to think on it. That's all right. We will talk more later when you're ready, but I did not want to leave without telling you that. I will come again tomorrow to see you." She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple.

Thor studied her carefully and made note of the way she spoke to his brother. He knew she was just as upset as he was that Loki had disappeared without so much as a goodbye, but none of that came across in her dealings with him. She was patient and kind, and there was not a hint of anger in her tone or any attempt to scold him for wrongdoing.

Loki let out a huff of dissatisfaction and shut his eyes. He didn't look happy, but he also didn't appear as angry as he'd been after Thor had forced care upon him.

Frigga left not long after that, giving Thor a kiss on the cheek before slipping silently from the room. Soon the brothers were alone in the apartment. Through the balcony doors came the muffled sounds of the city, along with the peaceful patter of rain. Paired with the aroma of the wine, even Thor found himself beginning to relax.

He sat down on the bed in the same place Frigga had previously occupied. Looking down at his brother, Thor barely knew where to start. There was nothing he could tell Loki that he would accept right now, and so Thor decided to take his mother's advice and say nothing at all. He could show him how much he cared instead.

Loki remained silent when Thor pulled back the blanket, revealing his upper body down to his waist. Thor opened the jar of ointment that Frigga had given him and dipped his fingers inside. It was a cream-colored substance with the same consistency as lotion. The scent reminded Thor of brown sugar melted together with vanilla extract, and it left a pleasant warming sensation behind wherever it touched.

Thor started with the small bruise on his brother's elbow, and as he rubbed the ointment in, he watched Loki's face for any reaction. There was nothing—only endless vacant staring—and Thor felt that was somehow worse than Loki screaming and cursing at him. At least there had been a hint of life in him when they'd scuffled in the shower.

But as Thor continued to rub the ointment onto every bruise he could find, massaging the cream in with circular motions, Loki's muscles began to relax beneath the warm pressure of his brother's hands. Frigga had been right about Loki's weakness for physical touch. That was simple enough to give, and so Thor took his time.

He found a knot beneath Loki's shoulder blade and worked at it with the ointment. When it released, Loki made a little sound in his throat—relief mixed with pain. It hurt Thor to hear it, for it made him realize his brother wasn't only in emotional pain. His body was suffering as well, though he hadn't told anyone that.

It was then that Thor made the mistake of trying to put the ointment on Loki's shoulder, where he was marked from the tracker's dart. Loki went rigid and sucked in air through his teeth like acid had been poured on his skin. He rolled onto his back and put a trembling hand on Thor's wrist to silently ask him to stop.

"I'm sorry!" Thor said. "I didn't realize that would hurt you."

The ointment _shouldn't_ have hurt him. There was nothing harmful or abrasive in it that might elicit such a reaction. It was the first time Thor had considered that the twin marks left on his brother's body might not be ordinary wounds. He remembered the runes engraved on the dart he'd pulled from Loki's thigh and the way the tracker had said he was now tagged. Perhaps he had not fully released Loki from every enchantment he'd placed upon him.

Loki shuddered and let go of his brother's wrist. His face was a few shades paler as he shifted onto his other side, now facing away from Thor as if to shut him out. "Who was he?" Loki asked, the words barely audible.

Thor very carefully dabbed the ointment onto a bruise near Loki's hipbone and tried not to fret over how thin his brother was. He would have to somehow persuade Loki to eat something in the morning. "Father hired him to find you and bring you home, though I don't think any of us knew he would resort to such tactics. I'm sorry I didn't better protect you from him. Heimdall brought him to Asgard. After the tracker is paid for his services, I doubt we will see him again."

But even as Thor spoke the words, he felt troubled. He pulled the blanket down further so that he could see the second wound on Loki's thigh. It was an angry shade of red and seemed to pulse with pain. Thor made a mental note to speak with his mother about the injuries tomorrow, for they did not seem as nonthreatening as he'd once thought.

Loki was once again shaking from the cold, and so Thor covered him up with the blanket, deciding to give the ointment another try later. He switched off the lamp on the nightstand and stood to pull his shirt over his head. Thor was exhausted, and the scent of the mulled wine made his eyelids feel pleasantly heavy.

As he walked around to the other side of the bed, he removed his belt and let it drop to the floor. He tossed no less than eight pillows over his shoulder before sliding beneath the sheets wearing only his jeans. The mattress was gloriously soft, and he sank into it with a grateful sigh.

Loki glared at him, irritated by the prospect of a bedmate, and he once again rolled around onto his other side so that he wouldn't have to face his brother. Thor paid no heed to this and instead reached for Loki, pulling him closer and onto the part of the mattress that was still covered with the sheets. If Loki would not seek out comfort for himself, Thor would make sure he received it anyway.

He bundled his brother up in his arms, scooting forward until his chest was pressed up against Loki's back. "Oh, hush," Thor said when he heard the growl of warning. But when he remembered his mother's demonstration of patience, he added in a kinder tone, "You're all right. I just want you to be warm."

And yet Loki continued to shake. Why was he so cold? The blanket was more than adequate. Thor rubbed a palm up and down his brother's arm, and when that seemed to have no effect, moved in closer and even hitched a leg around Loki to offer him the full benefit of Thor's body heat.

Eventually Loki grew still, his tremors finally silenced. When Thor noticed this, he was filled with a sudden rush of hope. This wasn't as difficult as he had assumed it would be. He began to feel like he could actually do some good. Loki was not so far gone that he couldn't be coaxed back to life with love and attention.

"We will figure everything out, brother," Thor said, his mouth pressed against Loki's hair. "Rest now, and tomorrow will be better. I will take care of everything. You do not have to go through this alone."

When Loki tensed in his arms, Thor could not decide what part of his declaration had upset him. Confusion and doubt began to diminish that shining moment of hope.

"Can you tell me what it is you need, Loki?" Thor captured his brother's hand within his own and gave it a squeeze. "Is there anything you want that might make this easier for you? I swear, if it is within my power, I will do it."

There was a long pause. Loki was quiet for so long that Thor assumed he'd fallen asleep. And then came a whisper in the darkness.

"I want to watch everything burn." Loki spoke the words with the gentle cadence of a bedtime prayer. "Every man, woman, child, and beast. Every memory. I want them all wiped from existence and then to throw myself into the fire afterward and become nothing. That is within your power, is it not?"

He closed his eyes and said no more.

Thor froze and remained that way for some time. An icy pang of distress stabbed at his heart, and now he felt like he might be the one left shivering.

Where in all the Nine Realms had _that_ come from? That did not sound like Loki Odinson, who was given to bouts of mischief but never that level of violence or malicious intent. The words sounded horribly wrong when spoken in Loki's familiar voice, and Thor struggled to understand why he would have said such things at all.

Surely Loki didn't actually want to harm anyone. He was obviously in pain, but only now was Thor beginning to sense the enormous well of anger building up pressure beneath the surface. He was at a loss over what to do about it. How did he even begin to respond to such a statement?

Again, he fell back on his mother's wisdom and said nothing at all. Wide-eyed and knowing he would find no rest that night, Thor cradled Loki closer and stroked his little brother's hair until he finally fell asleep.

* * *

><p>To be continued<p>

Notes: Thank you for reading and for the comments! If you're enjoying the story, I'd love to hear from you. (PS – yes, you will see the tracker again.)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

_The Midgardian air was damp and heavy with the promise of rain, but Loki struggled to fill his lungs with air for reasons other than the humidity._

_It was difficult to think, and his thoughts were sluggish, like he was wading waist-deep in thick, debilitating mud. So overwrought was he with emotion that it took him longer than normal to process what he was seeing. And so he stared at his brother and the unknown mortal woman but could not seem to comprehend how two people could look so stupidly happy after everything had fallen apart._

_Thor and the Midgardian woman sat huddled together, side by side, watching the stars. Thor's jacket was draped across her shoulders, and his voice held an unfamiliar gentleness every time he called her Jane._

_The sound of her name made Loki feel strangely helpless. He thought it might be anger or perhaps jealousy that burned in his gut, but those emotions had never left him feeling quite this powerless before. This was something closer to the fear of a child hopelessly lost in the woods—a little boy who had realized he now had to take care of himself yet was utterly unprepared for such a thing._

_Loki had left Asgard behind with no small amount of effort. Instinct had brought him straight to Midgard, for that was where he'd learned Thor had fallen after Odin had banished him. As much as Loki resented his brother at times—with his simpleminded optimism and smothering presence, which Loki absolutely loathed unless he was deprived of it for more than an hour—he needed Thor so badly at that moment that his throat ached with longing._

_Loki stood there in plain sight and silently pleaded with Thor to simply _look at him_—to turn away from the self-indulgent whims that had stolen him away from Loki a little more every day._

Please, brother_**,**__ Loki said in his mind, for there was too much built up inside of him to allow him to speak out loud. Too many thoughts, fears, and hurts to ever hope to put into words. No one to hear, even if he could manage to speak. How easily his brother had replaced him._

_Thor never did look at him._

_Loki had assumed his heart was already broken—that he couldn't hurt anymore than he already did. But as he walked away, stunned and alone, he realized how very mistaken he was about his capacity for pain._

* * *

><p>Though Thor was exhausted, lingering adrenaline kept his mind on edge and prevented him from falling into a deep sleep. He dozed and journeyed in and out of dreams. They were pleasant at first, for Loki's warmth and familiar scent were comforting—but even half-asleep, Thor found he had difficulty relaxing. The fear that Loki might again be lost haunted his thoughts and twisted his dreams.<p>

Thor dreamt about chasing Loki through an endless desert. A place with no shadows. Little more than a vacant horizon. Thor followed a trail of footsteps left in the golden sand, but though he ran as fast as he could and caught sight of his brother many times, Loki always managed to slip away.

Thor woke up repeatedly during this dream and hugged Loki ever closer to reassure himself that his brother was no longer missing. But every time Thor closed his eyes again, the chase resumed.

After what felt like hours of running, Thor finally caught up with his brother, who had inexplicably stopped dead in his tracks and was staring down at the sand. But as Thor embraced Loki and wept his relief against the warm curve where his brother's neck met his shoulder, Loki began to sink down into the sand.

At first, Thor did not notice anything was wrong—not until the sand had swallowed Loki down to his ankles—and by then it was too late. Thor tried everything he could to free his brother from the trap, from attempting to pull Loki out himself to pleading with him to fight for his life.

"Why won't you try?" Thor begged him, practically in tears. "Brother, lift your legs. Grab hold of me. Do _something_."

But Loki only gazed back with sad, listless eyes. He was buried up to his chest now and struggling to breathe as the sand crushed the life out of him. "Try to catch me now," he whispered through lips already turning blue.

Thor awoke with a gasp, heart pounding, his brow dotted with sweat. Though he understood he'd only been dreaming, it was upsetting nevertheless. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and worked to slow his breathing.

"Loki, are you awake?" Thor knew he shouldn't disturb his brother's rest but wanted to hear his voice all the same.

Loki didn't move. Likely still under the effects of the sedative, he was fast asleep with Thor's arm serving as his pillow. The brothers were facing each other in bed, and Loki was huddled as close to Thor's warmth as he could possibly manage without actually burrowing underneath him.

Despite the anxiety left over from the dream, Thor couldn't help but smile. It was an absolute joy to see Loki so at peace and open to receiving affection, even if unconsciously.

Thor's nightmare was soon forgotten. He pulled the blanket around Loki's shoulder and whispered, "You're safe. I promise I will take better care of you this time." Though the words were spoken to Loki, Thor said them for his own sake. If anything, the dream had reminded him that finding Loki was only the first step. Things were not yet right, but Thor would not stop fighting until they were.

Through the windowed balcony doors came the glow of morning, but it was subdued by rainclouds. There was just enough light to allow Thor to see that Loki's haggard appearance had improved overnight. Though still far too thin, color had returned to his lips and face.

On the nightstand, the goblet of mulled wine Frigga had left still steamed, releasing its aroma into the room—an enchantment meant to restore her sons' strength. They had breathed in Frigga's magic all night. Gone was the bone-deep weariness Thor had endured from so many months of endless searching. His body was strong and his mind, less burdened. Despite his troubled dreams, he felt adequately rested but was far too comfortable to consider getting out of bed.

Loki was _so warm_. Thor kissed his brother's forehead and took Loki with him as he rolled onto his back. Loki's body was half on top of his brother's now, and he made a little sound of protest and stifled a yawn against Thor's chest. Thor chuckled as Loki wriggled sleepily against him in an attempt to find the position that would afford the most warmth. Thor felt the tickle of Loki's eyelashes flutter against his skin, but eventually, he grew still. The pace of his breathing revealed that he'd fallen back asleep.

Thor could not seem to stop smiling. Frigga had been right about Loki's response to physical touch. If he wouldn't talk to Thor or accept his declarations of brotherhood, at least Loki was open to this. The rest would come with time.

Thor ran his fingertips up and down the long length of Loki's spine and listened to the rain patter against the windows. Outside, the city had already awoken, but the sound of traffic seemed far away—like they were in their own world, floating above the rainclouds. Eventually, Thor's smile faded into something more serious. He opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

Though Thor had elected to sleep in his jeans, Loki was naked beneath the covers. It was hardly the first time Thor had seen his brother without clothes on or even the first time they'd slept together in the same bed this way. But those occasions were in the days of their youth when they were hardly aware that they should care about things like modesty. Thor had barely taken note of it now until he registered the warmth of Loki's leg pressed between his thighs. Thor's morning erection pulsed, pinned between them.

Thor's fingers stopped moving, coming to rest on the patch of fine hair on the small of his brother's back. He swallowed. Shut his eyes. Tried to think of something else.

But the set of Loki's mouth against his skin was as soft as velvet and distractingly hot. Thor wondered what it might feel like if he turned them over and pressed his little brother into the mattress beneath him.

He drew in a deep breath and did not let it out until he'd shifted Loki's weight off of him. Once he managed to get out of bed, Thor pulled the covers up to Loki's chin, whispered an apology, and silently slipped out of the bedroom.

* * *

><p>Storms rolled over the city for the remainder of the morning hours and into the afternoon, bringing with them thunder so loud that the windows of the apartment building rattled in their frames. Thor watched the storm and took note of the change in the direction of the wind. The flags atop a nearby building whipped around until they were pointed south, blown by a strong northerly wind.<p>

Even after the pounding rain calmed into something gentler, thunder continued to rumble in the distance. There was a flash of light, followed by a sharp _crack_ that set off a wave of car alarms on the streets below. Those who heard the commotion would no doubt mistake it for the storm, but Thor immediately recognized the sound of the Bifröst.

Frigga had returned, just as she'd promised. Judging from the proximity of the flash of light, Heimdall must have positioned her arrival on the roof of the building.

By the time she reached the apartment, Thor had put on a clean shirt and was waiting for her with the front door held open. There were droplets of rain in her hair, but she still appeared far more composed than she had the prior evening—chin held high, eyes sparkling with affection for her eldest son. She had with her a small box, which she handed over to Thor while greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

"You look better," Frigga said, "though not as thoroughly rested as I would have hoped. Did you not sleep well?"

Thor set the box on the kitchen counter and poked through the contents. It contained more supplies— various incidentals that Frigga had gathered together during the night. There was even a stack of Midgardian currency. "Well enough," Thor said, choosing not to mention his distressing dreams. "Loki is still asleep."

Frigga's smile became strained, but she did not let it falter. "And how does your brother fare?"

"The enchantment you left with us has already improved his pallor. I thought it best to let him rest and then persuade him to eat something once he awakens."

"I think I was a little over-zealous with my food choices last night," she admitted. "Loki obviously hasn't been eating regularly, and he might not be able to keep down anything rich. I've brought him something simpler to eat." She removed three containers of broth from the box and placed them on the counter beside the stove. "You can warm these up a bit, but I wouldn't recommend serving it to him piping hot. Keep things simple until he's proven he can stomach it."

Thor nodded. The broth was familiar to him, commonly given to the sick by Asgard's healers—high in calories and nutrients, though bland and easy on the stomach. It was an appreciated gesture, but he found it odd that Frigga was already leaving him with instructions for it. "You're not departing so soon, are you? You only just arrived."

Frigga was quiet for a few moments before replying. "I devoted much of the night to contemplation, as well as attempting to reason with your father. It's not that I want to stay away from your brother, but I think it best to continue to give Loki as much time and space as possible—before there's none left to give."

"But you already gave him space last night," Thor protested. "He's had a _year_'s _worth_ of time."

"And yet only a few hours have transpired since we came back into his life. He needs to process that and understand he's not our prisoner. Thor, your father is pushing hard for Loki's immediate return. He wants your brother in Asgard the moment he's able to travel. Once Loki hears that, he will not react well to the news."

Thor glanced at the bedroom door. "He must already know we mean to bring him home."

"If that is true, then do not be surprised if he resists anything that might hasten his healing," Frigga said. "It's likely he will refuse to eat simply to delay his return. It occurred to me last night that perhaps that's not necessarily a bad thing."

"How so?" Thor asked, eyebrows lifted. "He needs to eat."

"I agree—but take it slow. Encourage him in that direction rather than forcing his hand. Stretch the healing process out as much as possible, and concentrate on addressing his fears and mending your relationship with him more than strengthening his physical body. Loki is strong and as long as his condition doesn't worsen, he will be fine to remain as he is. Even a few sips of broth a day will benefit him. Get him to commit to something small like that, and once he begins caring for himself on his own, you'll know he's ready to return to Asgard."

Thor blew out a slow breath. What his mother was asking him to do went against his instincts, which told him to push Loki toward recovery as quickly as possible. "I will do my best, though I wish you would stay. You have always known how to reach him."

"Oh, I wouldn't underestimate your talents in that arena. You know how to get ahold of me if I'm needed. But Thor—there's something else you should know." Frigga met her son's eyes and lowered her voice. "The tracker returned with me from Asgard only minutes ago. The All-Father has sent him to watch you both until Loki is well enough to manage the journey home."

Thor's posture went rigid. "_Why?_"

"So that your brother does not find opportunity to slip away from us again."

"Mother, he hunted Loki down like an animal. He left marks on his body."

Frigga's frown deepened. "What kind of marks?"

"He hit Loki with two darts. They had runes on them—some kind of enchantment, I think. The wounds are enflamed, and the pattern looks like he was struck by lightning—like twisting vines or the branches of a tree. He could barely withstand the ointment last night."

"That sounds like a dampening spell. Have you seen Loki use his sei_ð_r since last night?"

"No, but he's been asleep. The last time he used it was when he cast an illusion on the train, right before the tracker shot him with the second dart."

"He must have hit Loki again when the first shot was not enough to force his sei_ð_r under control." Frigga sighed, displeased with this information. "Watch your brother carefully for any sign of unusual behavior, but he should be fine. The marks will be painful for another day or so but no longer than that. Once the enchantment is lifted, they'll fade completely."

Thor felt torn. Though dampening Loki's ability to use his magic would aid in preventing him from running away, it did not feel right. "And when will that happen?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. The enchantment would not be removed until Loki returned to Asgard and knelt obediently before the king.

"I will discuss the matter with the All-Father," Frigga said, "but I do not anticipate that he will intervene. You must understand, Thor—something happened between your father and brother that they have not shared with us. You know how stubborn your father can be when his ideals are challenged, and Loki leaving Asgard behind was a form of rejecting everything Odin has ever given him. Your father has not taken that as well as I would hope. He does not like to look upon his own faults, and whatever transpired between them has seemingly dragged a few of those faults into the light. He did not anticipate your brother's reaction to the news of his true parentage."

"So he wants Loki back in Asgard to alleviate his guilt?" Thor asked.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Frigga said. "Yes, he feels guilty, but he also loves Loki very much. He's hurt by the rejection and has put up defenses of his own. I don't think he yet understands that even if Loki returns and again takes his place as Odin's son, things might still never be the same. While you stay here and work with your brother, I mean to ready your father for Loki's return as well. This will not be an easy reconciliation. They will both need to humble themselves and lower their defenses first, or all our efforts will be in vain. We will lose Loki all over again."

Thor's mouth twitched into a smile, for the situation suddenly appeared laughably impossible. "So essentially you're implying that restoring our family will require something of a miracle."

Frigga returned the smile, equally aware of the hard work ahead of them. "Essentially. Yes."

"Well, then," Thor said with a decisive nod. "Let us begin."

* * *

><p>Before Frigga departed, she entrusted Thor with a small envelope that had Loki's name carefully inscribed upon it in dark gold ink. Judging from the thickness, there was a lengthy letter inside. "For when he's ready to receive it," she explained. "Give your brother my love, and call out to Heimdall if you need me to come. But otherwise, I will not return unless I hear from one of you."<p>

Though the last thing Thor wanted was for his mother to depart, he saw the sense in it and was glad they'd had time to discuss their strategy with Loki and Odin. It helped to have a goal in mind and gave Thor something to fight for. "You will be missed," he said. "I will do my utmost to see your son returned to you soon."

Frigga laughed, and the bittersweet sound made Thor want to embrace her. "Just try not to kill each other," she said with a wink. "Steady and slow wins the race."

Thor accompanied his mother to the roof of the apartment building to see her off but was on edge the entire time, mindful that the tracker was somewhere nearby. Nervousness tingled at the base of Thor's spine, and he stared hard at every corner and shadow in the off-chance that someone was hiding there. He regretted his decision to leave Loki unattended with a hunter on the prowl, particularly with his sei_ð_r bound and useless. Loki was cunning—but so was the tracker.

Outside, the temperature had plummeted. Thor was not familiar enough with Midgard's weather patterns to know for certain, but he wondered if it might snow. The rain had moved on, but gray clouds still hung heavy overhead, seeming so close that Thor imagined he could reach his hand up and touch them. They were moving south at a rapid pace, blown by the wind. Frigga's dress whipped wildly around her legs.

Once the Bifröst caught his mother up into the sky, Thor wasted no time in returning to the apartment. Goosebumps had sprung up on his arms, and he rubbed at them in an attempt to warm himself. The cramped elevator moved far too slow, and he paced impatiently until at long last, the doors opened with a cheerful _ding_.

Behind the threshold of a neighboring apartment, a dog barked wildly with his nose pressed to the crack beneath the door. Had Frigga not warned Thor about the tracker, he might have thought nothing of the animal's behavior, but now he wondered if the dog had sensed an intruder.

He wished the tracker would reveal his presence. To skulk in the shadows in such a way was the very definition of cowardice, but Thor had spent enough time in his company to know that was his preferred method of hunting. The two of them were no longer allies—now opponents—but he was not afraid. If the tracker thought Thor would permit him to intimidate Loki into returning to Asgard before he was ready, he had another thing coming to him.

Once inside the apartment, Thor locked the door and placed Mjölnir in front of it as an added precaution. He tucked away Frigga's letter for Loki into a drawer for another time and set about warming up some of the broth. His mind was ill at ease, and the solitude was therefore difficult to bear. It was time to wake up his brother.

But when Thor carried the cup of broth to the bedroom, the first thing he saw was the empty bed. The room was still dark, though much colder than it had been when Thor left in the early morning hours. He was surprised to see the balcony doors flung open and Loki seated upon the wood floor in front of them. He wore the same filthy jeans from last night, having ignored the clean clothing hanging in the closet. On his bare shoulder was the intricate pattern of the tracker's mark, which had spread down his arm as well as toward his collarbone. He looked strangely small sitting there.

He was bent over something in concentration, and when Thor drew near, he saw that it was the stack of blank paper from the nightstand—the same paper Thor had seen on the floor of the apartment last night before Frigga had arranged for it to be furnished. The top page was dirty and creased, pinned to the ground with Loki's palm to keep the wind from blowing it away. Loki turned a pen over and over in one hand but had written nothing.

Thor glanced disapprovingly at the balcony doors, thinking it too cold and the wind too volatile to allow them to remain open, but the air that rushed in was refreshing. Thor thought it might do Loki some good, and so he said nothing to dissuade him.

When Thor's shadow fell over him, Loki turned his head without actually looking at him. The pen seemed to tremble in his hand. "Is she gone?"

Thor cleared his throat, not quite certain what to say or do. He wondered how much Loki had overheard of Thor's conversation with Frigga. "Mother left you a letter—and also brought you this." He knelt beside Loki and held out the cup of broth. "Will you eat something? You must be hungry."

Loki blinked at the broth several times, as if not certain why it had suddenly appeared before him. He swallowed once in distaste and then returned his attention to the paper, bringing the pen to his lips.

"Brother, did you hear me? When was the last time you ate?"

Loki shrugged his injured shoulder. "Put it on the nightstand."

Thor had anticipated experiencing difficulty with this part, but that did not make it any less frustrating. It wasn't as if Loki was dying from starvation—just painfully thin. Thor was obviously more distressed over his brother's condition than Loki was. But though this was not a battle Thor planned to give up on so easily, perhaps it was not the right time to push. He placed the cup in front of Loki and settled down on the floor beside him. The breeze blew Thor's hair into his face, prompting him to gather it up into his hands. He began to braid the top half to keep it tamed.

Loki's own hair hung limp, hiding his downcast profile. Thor had never seen it so long or unkempt before. The ends were ragged from inattention. Loki normally did everything in his power to banish the natural tendency of his hair to curl but no longer seemed to care about such things. The black waves softened his appearance but also made him look older. The little boy Thor once knew was nowhere to be seen.

Thor finished braiding his hair and kept it from unraveling by winding a longer strand around the end. "What's that you're writing?"

There was no response. Loki stared at the paper like it held some kind of mystery or problem he couldn't seem to solve.

"Loki," Thor said. He tipped his head down and angled it to the side in order to catch his brother's eye. "Won't you talk to me?" He reached out to sweep Loki's hair away from his face.

"I'm not writing anything," Loki said, jerking his head away before Thor could touch him. "I would think that rather obvious, given the blankness of the page."

"Then what are you trying to write?" Thor asked. "A letter, perhaps?"

"No."

The blunt finality of Loki's response did not invite further conversation. It was as if he was determined to pretend he was still living on his own, choosing to wear his old clothes and sit on the floor instead of seeking out any of the furnishings or comforts Frigga had provided. Thor felt completely shut out—like he could return to Asgard forever without Loki noticing or caring.

Thor was absolutely bewildered by his brother's indifference to him. Their relationship had endured many highs and lows throughout the centuries. They'd shared in just as many fearsome arguments as they had in moments of side-splitting laughter. They were not always the best of friends, but that hardly mattered when they were _brothers_, which was an unbreakable bond they shared with no other.

It had been much simpler to show Loki affection earlier, when they were bundled up together in bed. No words had been needed to convey how Thor felt, and he liked to think the way Loki had accepted and responded to that meant he wasn't as indifferent as he wanted Thor to think. Perhaps Loki had simply been alone for too long.

Thor reached out once more to touch his brother's hair, and though Loki attempted to evade him yet again, there was only so far he could go. He sighed but held perfectly still as Thor tucked his hair behind his ear, revealing Loki's face to him. The muted light that filtered into the room from the balcony doors made him look like he was carved from marble. Beautiful but lifeless.

"We don't have to talk, brother," Thor said, his fingers still combing through Loki's hair. "I only want you to know that nothing has changed between us. I'm here for you—and always have been if you would but look up and see."

There was an underlying frustration behind the words. He could understand why Loki might be angry with their parents, but why had he fled instead of coming to Thor for help?

However, Loki did not respond as expected to the promise of support. He went perfectly still—and then, after a strange, drawn-out moment, turned to give Thor his full attention for the first time. His green eyes had gone inexplicably cold with fury.

Thor's frustration diminished into concern. He was reminded of their worrisome conversation from the previous night, when Loki had whispered about his desire to see everything burn—including himself.

"You're angry with me," Thor observed.

"How good of you to notice." Loki's voice was surprisingly steady for someone about to cry.

"Brother, I only just found you yesterday," Thor said gently. "You haven't been present for me to notice."

Loki smiled, thin-lipped and tight. "This did not happen _yesterday_."

Thor leaned in closer and brought his hand to rest on the base of Loki's neck. His skin was ice cold from sitting too long in front of the open doors. "Tell me what I've done," Thor said with unwavering patience, "and I will make amends. Brother, if I've hurt you or let you down in the past, know that I am truly sorry. You told me once to never doubt that you loved me, and I want you to know my love for you is just as unconditional. I had no idea what mother and father were hiding from you and would have told you if I had known. The truth changes nothing between us. I am your brother, and I want you to let me support you in this."

"I don't want to make amends, Thor. I don't want you here at all." Loki squeezed his eyes shut but leaned ever so slightly in his brother's direction. "I am _done_."

Thor pulled him closer and rested his head against Loki's, encouraging that connection. "Then why are you leaning into my touch?"

Loki took in a shuddering breath, but though his body was full of tension, he didn't resist when Thor enveloped him in a hug. Loki's head fit perfectly into the nook beneath Thor's chin. As relieved as Thor was to finally find his brother, it occurred to him for the first time that Loki was also relieved to be found. He pressed his face against Thor's chest like he had been the one searching endlessly for his brother instead of the one running.

"When are you taking me back to Asgard?" Loki asked. His breaths were coming fast, as if he was on the verge of panicking.

"Shhh." Thor covered Loki's head with the palm of his hand, hoping to make him feel protected. "That is yet to be decided. I mean to keep you on Midgard as long as I'm able."

"And what does that mean? That could be five minutes from now."

"It means I'm on your side. You aren't in any condition to travel, and if anyone attempts to force you, I will stop them."

"Is that why I was hunted down and trapped—to say nothing of the painful binding of my magic—because you're 'on my side'?" Loki pushed away from Thor and got to his feet.

Thor stared up at his brother with mounting wariness. Loki's eyes were wild—like he wasn't thinking properly or was reacting only out of fear. "I _searched_ for you, brother," Thor said. "There was no hunt, and you aren't trapped. It wasn't me who bound your . . . Loki, where are you going?"

Loki didn't respond. He had already swept out of the bedroom, prompting Thor to sigh in exasperation and follow. When he caught up with Loki in the living room, he found him staring at Mjölnir like it was a bomb set to explode. Loki turned to level a glare at his brother. "What's that you said about me not being trapped?"

"I didn't place Mjölnir in front of the door to keep you locked in," Thor said. "It's meant to keep the tracker _out_. He's the one who bound your magic and did that to your shoulder and leg." He pointed at the mark on Loki's skin. "He's out there somewhere, and I don't want him anywhere near you."

Loki hoisted his chin, looking as if he didn't know quite what to do with that information. "You said last night that the All-Father hired him."

"Yes, to _find you—_not bring you to harm. Loki, you vanished without a word. We feared something terrible had befallen you."

"Well, here I am," Loki said, waving his hands in the air sardonically. "Everything terrible that's happened began with your arrival. I don't need you here, Thor." He gestured around at all the comforts Frigga had brought. "I never asked for any of this. I was doing just fine on my own."

"You are our family," Thor said. "You don't have to ask. Brother, please try to calm down."

Which was perhaps the wrong thing to say, for it prompted Loki to march forward and shout "I'm not your brother!" right in Thor's face.

But as soon as Loki said the words, the fight drained out of him—along with all the blood in his face. He sank downward and sat on the floor where he'd been standing. Thor knelt beside him and placed a hand on the back of Loki's neck. His skin felt clammy and cold, and Loki put his face in his hands like the room was spinning.

"You're unwell," Thor said. "I want you to eat something."

"And I want you to leave," Loki muttered into his palms.

"I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen."

"Then _I_ want to leave."

Thor's eyes drifted shut momentarily. "Very well. Drink the cup of broth I brought you, and I'll unblock the door. You can walk in or out anytime you like."

"And I suppose you have no intention of following."

A slight smile touched Thor's eyes. "Look at it this way. If you start taking better care of yourself, you'll soon have enough strength to evade me."

Loki sighed. "Your methods of persuasion need some improvement. You should have started there if you wanted me to eat." Very carefully, he unfolded his legs and eased himself up onto his feet.

Thor grabbed hold of his brother's arm to steady him and didn't let go until he was convinced Loki wouldn't fall right back down again. It was evidence of his weakness that he didn't put up a fuss. Thor followed his brother into the bedroom and fetched the cup of broth for him from the floor after Loki had stared down at it as if it was impossible to reach.

Loki sat on the edge of the bed and accepted the cup from Thor, who stood over him to wait. But when Loki lifted the cup to his lips, he immediately lowered it again without drinking. He drew in a deep breath and let it out deliberately like he thought he might be ill.

"Take it slow," Thor said. "No one's rushing you."

"Oh, yes," Loki said. "When you were wrestling me into submission last night on the train, I felt the patience simply _oozing_ out of you."

"I apologize if I hurt you. My only intention here is to see you restored. Loki, you cannot enjoy feeling this way."

"And yet feeling like this is the only thing preventing me from being dragged back to Asgard. I do believe I can handle it, but thank you for your concern."

"One cup of broth is not enough to ready you for that journey. Please, brother. Do it for me."

Loki opened his eyes to stare down at the cup. "You're not my brother," he said.

"You keep saying that, but it doesn't mean I no longer see you as _my _brother. There is nothing you can say or do to change that."

The side of Loki's mouth pulled into a smirk. "Oh? Is that a challenge? I have a mind to make you regret those words."

"Loki." Thor leaned down and cupped his brother's face in his hands. "Drink the broth. Please."

A mixture of emotions flashed across Loki's features. At first Thor saw anger, but then it changed into something hopelessly sad. Almost longing. A heartbeat later, the indifference had returned. "You will remove Mjölnir and not otherwise prevent me from leaving?" Loki asked, his tone flat.

"I swear it," Thor said, "though I pray you won't."

When Loki took an obedient sip of the broth, Thor's face split into a delighted grin. When he pulled his brother in and planted a celebratory kiss to his forehead, Loki made a sound of disgust and pushed at Thor's chest until he let go. Thor's smile faded when he realized Loki had again gone pale. He hung his head down and covered his mouth. The broth had made him sick.

Thor sat beside his brother on the bed and rubbed the center of his back. Loki's entire body was shaking. "Easy," Thor said. "Let it settle. The next sip will be easier."

Loki groaned at the prospect of having to drink any more. "I think I might like to kill you."

"Keep drinking, and you'll have a better chance of succeeding."

Loki let out a breathless chuckle. "Now you're getting it. How quickly your bartering techniques have improved." After taking a moment to steel himself, he took another drink, and though his body continued to quake, he appeared to stomach the second attempt better. A third of the broth was now gone.

"Thank you, brother," Thor said. He squeezed Loki's uninjured shoulder before getting to his feet. He left the bedroom and soon returned with Mjölnir, which he set down on the bedroom floor. "It's done. You're free."

Loki looked up at him, and Thor's heart tugged painfully when he registered the deep well of unhappiness in his brother's eyes. "Is that what I am?" Loki whispered.

"Not when you have people who care about you, no," Thor said. "You can run all you like, brother, but that will not prevent me from following. I love you far too much to ever stop."

Loki held Thor's gaze, looking all the while like he wanted to again press the point that they weren't brothers by blood. But eventually his vision seemed to go out of focus, and then he looked at the floor instead. The wind had scattered the blank pages all around, and as they blew past Thor's legs, Loki drank the remainder of his broth in silence.

* * *

><p>To be continued.<p>

A/N – This chapter is teeming with symbolism for those who have an interest in that sort of thing. Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and I'd love to hear from you if you have a few moments. Take care!


	4. Chapter 4

Notes: Hope you don't mind, but this chapter is a bit shorter than what I normally post. I've had some recent struggles with writer's block and hope posting something small might help me get back in the groove. I might be going for this length more often, which I also did in the early chapters of _Bargaining_ to help me gain momentum before diving into the main plotline. (Which, by the way, we haven't yet hit in this story. Have I mentioned this one is going to be long?)

* * *

><p>Chapter Four<p>

_When Thor reclaimed Mj__ö__lnir and vanished from Midgard without warning, Loki was not surprised. Though he did not know the precise reasoning behind his brother's sudden departure, it was a simple enough matter to fill in the blanks._

_Less than a week had passed since the All-Father had stripped his first-born of his powers and banished him to a mortal realm. But from the moment Loki uncovered the truth of his origins, he knew Thor's punishment would not endure. Asgard could not be left without an heir, and there was but one true son of Odin._

_This realization left Loki in an absolute daze—without purpose or identity. His mind was paralyzed by betrayal he was still struggling to understand. Without Thor, there was no reason to stay on Midgard, but Loki lingered there in the desert all the same. After all, where else did he have to go?_

_At times, he observed Jane Foster from afar. Though she didn't seem particularly affected by Thor's disappearance, her smiles were sometimes strained, bordering on sadness. At night, she sat by herself and watched the stars. Loki found her quiet struggle with disappointment strangely soothing. There was something comforting in the knowledge that another understood what it felt like to be touched by the sun and then left behind in the cold._

_He wanted nothing more than to banish the memory of warmth from his mind. But numbness, he came to learn, was not an easy thing to attain._

* * *

><p>Over the next two days, Thor became painfully aware of how little he understood about his brother. It was like an impenetrable fog existed between them, and neither could fully see the other.<p>

There were certain things he learned not to discuss—at least for the present. The first and most important was the All-Father, for any mention of him caused Loki to shut down entirely. Other topics to avoid were Frigga, Asgard, Jötunheim, and whatever incident had driven Loki away from his family in the first place. He refused to speak about any of it.

Left with little choice, Thor concentrated on his brother's physical recovery before worrying about anything deeper. As long as there was no discussion about forbidden subjects, Loki tolerated Thor's attempts to take care of him, seemingly too tired to argue when coaxed to sip from a cup of broth or submit to another application of Frigga's healing ointment. He slept a great deal, and though he didn't protest when Thor held him at night, it was impossible to ignore the tension that took up residence in Loki's body and persisted until he fell asleep. He might be submitting to Thor's affection, but Loki was still resisting it in his heart.

Still, there were moments that gave Thor hope.

One morning, he awoke to a strange sound. He opened his eyes to see Loki sitting in his usual place on the floor before the open balcony doors, shirtless and shivering with his hair blowing in the icy breeze. It was his daily ritual to do this, and Thor had not yet been able to determine why. Now he had his first clue.

A small cat with iron-gray fur had jumped down onto the balcony from the apartment above. The sound Thor had heard was her tentative meow. She rubbed her chin against the doorway and eyed both the brothers in turn, staying just out of arm's reach until she made up her mind about them. She seemed familiar with Loki, but her large, mahogany eyes were guarded as she took in Thor. He rose from bed slowly so as not to startle her, and she tiptoed toward Loki once she decided it was safe.

"Friend of yours?" Thor asked.

Loki turned his head in acknowledgement of his brother, but he didn't respond. His eyes were almost colorless in the morning light, and his breath froze in the air before dissipating in a patch of sunlight at his feet. He set a pen down on the floor and stretched out his fingers for the cat to smell.

Thor fetched a dish of milk from the kitchen and placed it on the ground near the balcony. The cat, who had been busy flirting with Loki and begging for a thorough petting session, hurried over to the dish. After a speculative sniff, she began lapping up the milk.

"I've been wondering why you keep opening the doors," Thor said. "At long last, the mystery is solved."

At least, he hoped it was. There was a far more worrisome explanation that had troubled Thor since his arrival.

He glanced at his brother warily, hoping those suspicions were wrong, but was distracted by the loose sheets of paper on the ground. Something was written on the top page, and curiosity inspired Thor to draw closer. There in the upper right-hand corner, Loki had printed a single word in his concise handwriting:

_cold_

The word looked lonely there by itself on the page, but Thor was too lethargic to give much thought to why his brother had written such a strange thing. He merely reacted to it as if Loki had spoken the word out loud.

Thor pulled the blanket free from the bed and wrapped it around his brother's shoulders. Then, with a great yawn, he settled onto the ground and pulled Loki close so that his back was resting against Thor's chest.

"Is that better?" he asked, his lips against Loki's cheek as he tucked in the edges of the blanket to ensure his brother would no longer be cold.

Thor was still half asleep but fully aware of how good it felt to press his mouth there. Though Loki's skin was like ice, he warmed quickly. It was because of Frigga's encouragement that Thor had striven to shower his brother with physical affection, but now that he had started, he found himself reaching for Loki more and more often.

When they weren't touching, Thor was thinking about the times they had—such as the way his brother's head fit so securely beneath Thor's chin or how Loki's indifference melted into sweetness right before he fell asleep. Thor might be doing this for his brother's sake, but his own relief at finding Loki manifested in moments like these. In truth, they both needed this connection.

Thor's hands felt restless unless a point of physical contact was established between them. Even now, with his lips against Loki's skin, their shared warmth barely satisfied Thor's longing for closeness.

He smiled when Loki sighed and leaned into his touch. _There_, Thor thought. That was what he wanted. Such a simple thing, but it meant the world to have Loki accept his affection and return it in kind. As long as they had this, they might last long enough to figure out everything else.

Loki's stomach chose that moment to let out a fearsome growl, and the cat's head popped up. Her chin was wet with milk, and her ears were pointed backwards in alarm. Thor's smile gave way to a chuckle. Hunger was a good sign that Loki's body was at long last waking up and demanding he take better care of it. It was like he'd been hibernating.

"Shall we find you something to eat?" Thor asked. "I think it high time you attempted real food instead of broth."

Loki tensed up, but he didn't pull away. "I'm not hungry."

"It's likely half of Midgard heard your stomach just now. Come on. There is plenty to eat in the kitchen. Even your little mistress over there has broken her fast."

They watched the cat return to her meal, though her ears were still pointed backwards to allow her to monitor any suspicious activity.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Loki asked.

The quiet desperation in his brother's voice made Thor pause before responding. It was one of those times when he suspected something was going on in Loki's head that was entirely different from what Thor perceived to be happening. How he wished Loki's moods were easier to decipher.

Thor's hand moved to his brother's stomach, which had let out another grumble of hunger. The tips of his fingers slipped beneath the folds of the blanket and found the heat of Loki's skin.

"What have I done?" Thor asked. "I'm trying so hard to understand but struggle with things left unspoken. That was always your talent. Brother, why are you so angry with me?"

The moment was surprising in its intimacy—with Thor's fingers brushing against Loki's bare stomach and his lips still so close to his little brother's mouth. A small voice in the back of Thor's head asked him what he thought he was doing, but he ignored it. This was what Loki responded to, and Thor found too much comfort in it himself to care about the implications.

The pace of Loki's breathing began to quicken, like he was deciding whether or not to put up a fight. And yet he still had not moved away. If anything, he leaned into Thor's touch all the more until they were practically molded together.

"The fact that you don't already know only makes me angrier," Loki said.

"You assume I'm as perceptive as you and comprehend all you don't say. I am not as ill-meaning as you seem to imagine. You've always thought me stupid. Talk to me plainly, then."

"You aren't stupid, Thor. You're senseless, which is quite possibly worse."

"Is there a difference?"

Loki snorted. "You have a splendid mind, but you refuse to put it to use. You allow your temperament to overrule your common sense. I've told you this before. I've told you many things before, and yet you repeatedly fail to listen. Why should I continue to waste my breath on you?"

"Brother, please just tell me what I've done. How else can I attempt to—?"

"I was _fine_," Loki snapped, cutting him off. "I was numb and had finally gotten to a place where I didn't care about any of it. And now . . . ." He shook his head, as if the continuation of that sentence was unacceptable. "Damn you, Thor. You have to take everything away from me, don't you?"

Loki snatched the pen off the floor. After uncapping it, he scribbled out what he had written on the paper and then tossed the pen away angrily. The cat trotted over to where it rolled and gave the pen a good sniff to make sure it wasn't a threat. When she straightened, she meowed at Loki and sat on her back haunches to stare at him.

She wasn't the only one bewildered by Loki's behavior. Thor hadn't followed his brother's thought process in the slightest. What had he taken away from Loki except everything that was hurting him? Bruises, loneliness, cold. Weren't these good things to leave behind? But Frigga had warned Thor away from dismissing things he didn't understand. Whatever was going through Loki's mind, the struggle was real for him.

"Keep talking," Thor said. "I'm listening."

"There is nothing else to say," Loki muttered. He was leaning forward now, as far away from Thor as he could manage without actually moving to sit somewhere else.

Thor stared at the defeated set of his brother's shoulders. "I don't believe that. You have pain written all over you. How can I help alleviate your suffering if I don't understand what is at the heart of it? I need you to talk to me."

Loki turned his head to glare back at Thor. "Do you think this was caused by a solitary event? You're asking me to put centuries of experiences into a single conversation. There is _too much_, Thor. I can't. Do you understand? I can't say it all." He dashed the papers aside, scattering them every which way and inspiring the cat to make a break for the living room. "Nor should I have to. Why did it take _this_ for you to notice something was wrong? You were there for _all of it_. Why must I explain what you should already know?"

Thor held out both his palms in a gesture of submission, hoping to calm Loki down. "I understand. This is the reason you're angry, then—because I failed to notice."

Loki laughed and started crying at the same time. "That is but scratching the surface. You really have no idea what it's like living in your shadow, do you? Having you here is like being caught in the gravitational pull of a star. There's nothing in all the Nine Realms like being the center of your universe. And nothing worse than being cast out of it. I hate you, Thor. I hate you so much because you make me love you, and then you leave me behind. What you're doing to me right now is cruel because it just makes me hunger for more. You will lose interest soon enough, and then I will be left to crater in your absence."

Thor blinked in surprise in the wake of this accusation. It wasn't accurate, of course, but again, he hesitated before dismissing it outright—for at the very heart of it was a grain of truth.

"I am guilty of taking you for granted," Thor admitted. "It was foolish to assume you would always be there. Forgive me. There are certain things that are irreplaceable, and you are one of them. I know these words mean little to you without actions to support them. And so I swear to you, brother—I will not leave you again."

Loki wiped at the moisture on his cheeks. "I am not your brother."

"Of course, you are."

Unable to stand the lost look on Loki's face anymore, Thor pulled him close again, for that was the purest demonstration of his love he could think of. Words never seemed to be enough.

His palm was now flattened on Loki's stomach, which growled against the pressure of Thor's hand. He pressed a kiss to the corner of his little brother's mouth, lingering there so long that Loki let out a slow breath and melted against him. His tears slowed, and soon, every ounce of tension in his body was gone.

Something nearly imperceptible shifted between them in that moment. It was an acknowledgement of a subtle tension that had existed between them for centuries now. There was a part of Thor that wished Loki hadn't responded to his kiss like that. And another part that longed to hear his brother make that sound again.

They stayed there like that for a long time, until at last, Thor stirred and said, "Come on. I want you to eat something. It's time to wake up and start caring for yourself again."

Held like this, Loki would be able to feel and taste Thor's words just as much as he heard them—vibrating against his back, warming his mouth.

Loki licked his lips. "In a minute," he said. Beneath the blanket, his hand closed over Thor's to keep it secured there. "I'm too warm to move."

* * *

><p>To be continued<p>

Notes: Hey, this one might have been short, but at least I gave you snuggles and a kiss, amirite? I'll do my best to have the next chapter up soon.

By the way, the breed of the cat is a blue British Shorthair. I'm telling you that directly since you can't expect an Asgardian narrator to know that himself. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

_Among Jane Foster's professional associates was a gentlemen by the name of Dr. Erik Selvig._

_Loki's attention first honed in on the human because of his knowledge of Thor and the strange Midgardian myths that existed concerning the gods of Asgard. However, this was not why Loki chose to follow Dr. Selvig when he parted ways with Jane Foster._

_Men in suits had come for Dr. Selvig, requesting his assistance in studying and harnessing an unknown source of great power._

_That, Loki thought, was certainly worth a look._

* * *

><p>Thor and Loki decided to leave the apartment in search of food, for Loki eyed every morsel Frigga had brought from Asgard with distaste bordering on anger.<p>

It wasn't only the food he rejected. He also refused to touch the furniture in the living room, choosing instead to wait for his brother in the cramped foyer. He still wore the same clothing he'd been found in, though Thor had managed to wash the faded jeans and t-shirt the day before while Loki slept.

Thor thought he might understand the root cause of Loki's stubbornness—that he wanted nothing to do with items gifted to him by Asgard's king or queen, who had lied to him for so many centuries—but that didn't make it any less frustrating to witness. It was obvious Loki was uncomfortable, but he refused to give in. It was like he saw strings attached to Frigga's gifts and did not want to run the risk of becoming entangled in them.

"It's cold outside. Put this on." Thor held out a knee-length wool coat to his brother. "It will be our secret. I'll make certain to tell our mother you in no way accepted even a hint of her kindness."

Loki rolled his eyes, snatched the coat away, and stalked off toward the elevator.

Before following, Thor turned to acknowledge the cat, who was lounging on the cushions of the sofa and busy grooming herself. "Noble creature," Thor said, "I charge you with the defense of this household."

The cat ignored him and continued to luxuriate in the act of licking her paws. A bit puzzled over the lack of response, Thor finally gave up and left.

In the elevator, he asked, "Does the creature have a name?"

"How should I know?" Loki muttered, his arms crossed and eyes staring straight ahead. "It doesn't speak."

Thor frowned as he considered this. "Midgard is a strange place."

Outside on the city sidewalks, people passed along like an endlessly flowing river. Everything was cast in shadows from the tall buildings all around them, but the sky above was a clear, brilliant blue. It was pleasantly cold, though when they encountered a patch of sunlight, the temperature rose to such a degree that Thor almost regretted wearing a coat. It felt like winter and spring were battling for position.

There was trash on the ground, the maddening sound of honking in the air, and exhaust from the backed-up traffic made it difficult to breathe. However, Thor took in his surroundings with growing excitement. Though he had journeyed to this realm before, he had never encountered a Midgardian city of this size.

He placed a companionable hand on his brother's shoulder as they joined the flow of foot traffic. "It is amazing how much Midgard has grown," Thor said, having to speak up to be heard over the din. "Though I still wonder why you chose to come here. I never thought you cared much for this realm."

Loki buried his hands in his coat pockets and appeared ill at ease with so many people around them. He had never enjoyed being in or near a crowd, which made his decision to come to New York City all the more curious.

"I had my reasons," he said.

"Which are?"

"None of your concern."

Despite Loki's mood, Thor had difficulty fighting a smile. He was relieved to be out and about with his brother at his side. "I will take your willingness to banter as a sign of your strength returning to you. Now where would you like to go? It appears we have an endless supply of choices before us. What sounds appealing to you?"

"Sleep," Loki said without hesitation.

"Besides that."

"Setting you on fire."

Thor squeezed Loki's shoulder with affection he could barely contain. How good it felt to have him back and acting more like himself every day. "I think you will enjoy a Midgardian breakfast. They do the most absurd things with leavened bread."

"You act as though I've only just arrived." Loki looked to his left and right before they crossed a street. "I do not require a tour."

Thor's smile wavered as he considered this, and his hand slid from Loki's shoulder to the back of his neck. "Have you been living here by yourself the entire year you've been missing?"

The idea of his brother in that apartment for so long—with no electricity, water, furniture, or companionship—made it suddenly difficult to breathe.

As Loki turned to glare at his brother, his eyes were a startling shade of green in the rare glimpses of sunlight. When they again stepped into shadow, he looked as cold, lifeless, and beautiful as winter itself. "Do not presume to know where I've been unless I decide to tell you. You don't know the half of it."

"So explain it to me," Thor said.

Loki pressed his lips together and pushed onward without responding.

* * *

><p>"Hot chocolate," Loki told the waitress. "Made with <em>steamed milk<em>. I will know if you attempt to deceive me with hot water, so please do not underestimate the discernment of my palette. If made to my specifications, I will see you are well compensated for your trouble."

They had found a small dining establishment serving breakfast a few blocks from the apartment. There were only a handful of tables, and the floor could have been cleaner—but it had the same humble charm as the diner Thor remembered from New Mexico. The smell of the food was so impossible to resist that even Loki had consented to enter without putting up a fuss.

The waitress, whose hair could not possibly be that shade of red in its natural state, tapped a pen on a pad of paper without writing anything down. Her eyes shifted from Loki to Thor.

"I'll have coffee," Thor said. "And also the, um . . ." He glanced down at his menu. ". . . Mama's Mean Migas. Brother, what do you care to eat? You cannot order only a drink."

Loki sighed. "I suppose I will partake of a Belgian Waffle. With strawberries and that white powdered substance that gets everywhere."

Thor handed his menu to the waitress with a smile. "Add to that a serving of protein, and you will have my thanks."

"Side of bacon it is," the waitress said and left without further commentary.

Amused by the woman's brusqueness, Thor turned to his brother with a grin. "A cheerful establishment, to be sure."

"Careful," Loki said. "They'll spit in your food or worse if they sense a sardonic turn of phrase. Better to purchase their favor with promise of currency."

"You continue to surprise me with your knowledge of this realm. Considering the initial state of your living quarters, I thought your stay here had only been brief."

Loki's jaw worked as he ground his teeth together. "You aren't going to give up until I explain, are you?"

"Now when have you ever known me to surrender?"

"A valid point, though I wonder if you realize that isn't always a positive trait. The answer you seek is that I have not lived in my current situation for more than a few weeks. It was a far simpler matter to move around and secure food and lodging before my _seiðr_ was bound. I'm sure it pleases you, along with your king and queen, to have rendered me incapable of providing for myself without Asgard's assistance."

Thor fell silent as the waitress came to deliver their drinks. As he stared down at his mug of coffee, he imagined his brother using illusions to steal food and find a place to lay his head for the night. "It does not please me at all. I did not sanction the binding of your magic, nor would I have allowed the tracker to touch you had I known what his intentions were."

"Then remove it," Loki said. "Find a way to break the binding and restore my seiðr to me."

Thor did not respond to this at first. He lifted the coffee to his lips and blew away the steam without tasting it. To restore Loki's magic would enable him to again run away. Though Thor would not have done such a thing to his brother, he would be lying if he said he had not enjoyed the advantages of it. This realization made him feel dishonorable.

"You know that is not within my power," Thor said, "though if it were, I would do it—to restore the trust between us, if nothing else. It would take another practitioner to perform such a feat. Either of our parents could do it, no doubt."

"How strange that the king and queen have not offered," Loki deadpanned. "And what of this tracker you've made mention of? He is obviously educated in the arts."

A chill went down Thor's back. He sipped his coffee and said, "I know not where he is."

"So I am no doubt to be made to stand before the All-Father before my powers are returned to me. And even then, there's no promise of it." Though Loki's words were bitterly spoken, the wavering of his voice revealed how terrified he was.

"Brother, we will figure this out." Thor set his cup down and reached to cover Loki's hand with his own. It felt like such an inadequate connection when what Thor really wanted to do was haul his little brother to his chest and hold him until that frightened look on his face was quelled. "Were I to find some way to restore your magic, what would you consent to?"

Loki's eyebrows pulled together in the middle. Though his stare was undiscernible, color came to stain his cheeks. He didn't pull his hand away.

Thor was at first puzzled by his brother's reaction, but when he sensed the subtle shift in the mood and how his words could have been interpreted, his face felt flushed as well. Loki's hand was so wonderfully warm beneath Thor's that his mind filled with images of further exploration. He wanted to slide his fingers up the sleeve of Loki's coat.

There was a small voice in his head that whispered encouragement to him—and another that told him to change the subject.

"What I mean is, what reassurances do I have that you would not simply leave?" Thor clarified. "I want to trust you, but I also don't want to lose you again."

Loki blinked several times and then looked away.

"If I work to free you from this binding spell, will you promise me you will remain at my side?" Thor said. "Likewise, I will give you assurances that we will not return to Asgard until you are ready."

"And who is to be the judge of my readiness?" Loki asked. Though his voice was quiet and even, it was apparent he was struggling to maintain his composure.

Thor wasn't certain how to answer this. Odin could see them from Hliðskjálf, his high throne from which he could watch over the Nine Realms. And then there was Heimdall, who was no doubt charged with monitoring the brothers from his post. Third, there was the tracker, whom Thor was aware of, though he felt Loki was not fully appreciative of the obstacle that presented. He had not journeyed for months at the tracker's side the way Thor had.

Many eyes were on Loki, and in turn, on Thor as well. He felt a pang of worry when he considered how open he'd been with his affection for his brother. While it didn't bother him in the slightest and Loki was obviously receptive, it was not something Thor desired others to see. They would not understand, and those moments were meant to be private.

It occurred to Thor that if Loki's seiðr was restored, they could avoid that unwanted attention.

After Loki had fled Asgard, Heimdall had admitted his suspicions that the lost prince was able to conceal himself from the watchman's gaze. This was confirmed over the next year, when no sign of him could be found. It also gave them hope that he was alive, for a dead man could not evade Heimdall. Now that Loki's seiðr was bound, it was apparent that he was now aware of those watching him. His posture was slumped, and he let his hair fall in front of his face so as not to be seen.

"You have been entrusted to my care," Thor said. "I think it is my decision, which is why you needn't worry."

"You think it is or know for certain?" Loki said. "I will not go back there, Thor, and if you or anyone else forces me, I will find a way out. You might not like the lengths I would be willing to go to achieve that end."

"Thank you for the warning. I will bear it in mind. Though you must know I would never force you to do something you don't want to."

"You mean except for eating, showering, combing my hair, riding the subway in peace . . . ?"

Thor smiled. "Yes. Except for those things." As they spoke, their fingers slid and played together, both of them enjoying the friction too much to stop and think about what they were doing. "I only want what's best for you, brother. If I force you to do something, it's only to stop you from hurting yourself. I acknowledge our friendship has not been right for some time, but I will rectify that if you will allow me to. And when we do return to Asgard, we will do it together. Your strength will be returned to you, and your chin will be held high."

Loki was already shaking his head before Thor even finished. Though their fingers were still entangled, Loki was beginning to shift in his seat like he was growing more and more agitated. "I will not go back."

"You won't even come home for me?" Thor asked gently.

"Why do you need me there?" Loki's eyes were wide with a mixture of incredulity and near panic, as though he'd been backed into a corner and had yet to discover a way out. "Why is it so important that I return? I tell you I am finished with you all, and yet you cling to me still. Do not say it is because we are brothers, for you now know that is not true."

Thor tightened his hold on Loki's hand. "I do not need you in Asgard. I need you at my side because _I love you_."

The words were loud enough to cause a hush to fall over the restaurant. Chatter ceased, as did the scrape and clank of silverware on plates. More than a few eyes turned in their direction.

At the table in front of them, a little girl asked, "Mommy, are those two guys over there getting married?"

And yet through all this unwanted attention, the brothers did not break eye contact. Thor slid his hand upward until it closed over Loki's wrist. As the noise of the restaurant slowly began to return to normal, Thor rubbed his thumb over the place where his brother's pulse beat. "I love you," he said again, quieter this time. "And wherever you are, be it on Midgard or Asgard, that is where I want to be. Whether or not you accept that I see you as my brother, you cannot deny my feelings for you."

Loki stared at him, unblinking, until his eyes filled with tears. There was a wariness in his gaze—but also something so incredibly vulnerable that Thor felt an ache in his chest, just observing it. What had _happened_ to Loki over the last year?

As Loki looked at the table, tears spilled down his cheeks. He wiped them away with his free hand as if they shamed him. "I don't understand why you would say such things, knowing what I truly am."

Thor's lips parted. "Brother . . . ."

"Pardon me." Loki pulled his hand away and got to his feet.

Realizing his brother meant to leave, Thor rose as well. After delving into his pocket, he dropped some Midgardian money on the table. "Keep those warm, please," he said to the waitress, who had come to deliver their food. "We will return."

The waitress watched as Loki stormed out of the front entrance, still wiping tears from his face. "It's not because I made his hot chocolate with water instead of milk, is it?" she called after them.

Outside, Thor was forced to jog down the sidewalk and weave through pedestrians in order to catch up. "Loki—brother, _wait_."

But Loki did not stop until one of the passing storefronts distracted him. He came to an abrupt halt and stared through a window, oblivious to the passersby giving him dirty looks for stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

When Thor managed to catch up, he found Loki staring at a store display of Midgardian televisions. On every screen was the same newscast, which showed images of a desert landscape marred by a large crater. Smoke poured into the air, evidence that whatever was at the bottom of the hole was little more than smoldering wreckage. The scrolling text at the bottom read: _New Mexico disaster still unexplained. Ground swallows remote research facility whole. Confirmed fatalities_.

Loki gazed at the screen with his lips parted in dismay as if he couldn't believe or make sense of the words. When Thor grasped his brother's shoulder and turned him around, Loki looked up at him with a startled expression. It was like he'd forgotten he wasn't alone or like Thor had caught him doing something wrong. His nose and eyes were red from crying.

"Why did you run off like that?" Thor asked. "Our meal is waiting."

Loki glanced back at the window display. "I'm not hungry anymore."

Thor ran a hand back through his hair, half-tempted to tug at it in frustration. Were they really back to this place again? Hoping for a bit of privacy, he grasped Loki by the crook of his elbow and guided him into an alleyway between buildings. There were bins of trash lining the brick walls, and a column of steam rose into the air from a grate fitted into the pavement.

"Yes, you are," Thor said when they were alone. "Loki, we've talked about this. You must begin to care for yourself once more."

Loki heaved an irritated sigh. "You don't understand. I literally feel sick inside. My throat is closed up, and my stomach is in knots. I don't want to eat because I _can't_."

"You were fine ten minutes ago," Thor said, striving to keep his voice calm. "Tell me what this is about."

"How?" Loki snapped. "There's too _much_, Thor. How many times must I say it? There's too damn much, and I can't . . . I can't do this here with you anymore."

Thor had pulled Loki close while he was still speaking. Wrapping his brother up in his embrace, Thor covered the crown of Loki's head with the palm of his hand, hoping to make him feel protected and less like he was flying apart. "Shhh," Thor whispered, nuzzling the tender flesh near Loki's ear. "Calm down. You're all right."

"No, I am _not_. Nothing will ever be all right again."

"That is untrue. You and I are standing here together after months apart, and that seems very right to me. You are overwhelmed. Just breathe. I promise I will take care of anything else that might befall you if you just focus on that one thing. Breathe, Loki."

Loki had grasped handfuls of his brother's shirt and hid his face in the crook of Thor's neck. "This can't be fixed. I've tried to sort it out on my own, but I don't know what to do anymore."

Thor rubbed little circles against the small of Loki's back. "What can't be fixed?"

"_What I am_," Loki wept. "How can you even stand being near me? I am a monster."

Thor squeezed his eyes shut.

How he wished he could turn back the hands of time, confront his younger self, and beat some sense into him. How many times had he joked with his brother about the shame of the frost giants? From the early days of their youth, they had openly mocked and derided the Jötnar. The last time Thor had seen Loki before he fled from Asgard, they had just returned from Jötunheim, where Thor had attacked their race with both words and actions.

"You are not a monster." Thor sighed, his heart heavy with regret. "Though I might be for making you feel this way. How you must hate me. Forgive me, brother."

"For what?" Loki laughed bitterly. "Apologies won't fix what I am."

"There is nothing to _fix_. I am the one who needs to change—not you. All you need to worry about is healing."

Loki barked another laugh and pushed at Thor's chest until he was released. "Norns," Loki muttered as he wiped at the moisture on his face. "What happened to turn you so soft?" He sneered. "A woman, perhaps?"

Thor narrowed his eyes, barely understanding the question. "What happened is that my little brother disappeared. Do you truly think I care for you so little? Is that why I spent nearly a year combing the Nine Realms and beyond for any sign of you, fearing all the while that you were dead? Do you have any idea how frantic I've been?"

He stopped there, for some of the anger inside of him had started to leak out. While Thor was furious with Loki for running away, now was not the right time to confront him. There were more important things to deal with first—like reestablishing the trust between them. Without that foundation, there was no telling how Loki would handle any form of criticism.

"If you sense a difference in me," Thor said, "it is because I felt what it was like not to have you and despised every second of it. It made me ask myself why you left. Loki, you once told me to never doubt that you love me, and I choose to believe that. Can you find a way to believe it of me as well? I love you, brother. If you can accept that and trust in me, we can begin to rebuild our family again—even if that family only consists of the two of us for the time being."

How sad Loki appeared, with his searching eyes and hungry expression. It was like he craved every word Thor spoke yet was too afraid to accept them.

"I'm sorry," Loki said after a long pause. "I've taken out my anger on you, though I know this isn't your fault. You were lied to just as I was. I have wished pain upon you in the past. I _wanted_ you to feel my loss and mourn for me, though I thought it would feel more satisfying than it does." His gaze fell to the dirty pavement at their feet. "I'm sorry, brother. I wish you would just let me go. It would be easier on us both."

Despite Loki's final statement, Thor couldn't help but smile. Hope swelled in his heart, for Loki had just called him _brother_ for the first time in a year. "I will never let you go," Thor said.

Loki smiled as well, but there was nothing happy about it. Though he had stopped crying, his eyes were still red, and he appeared ever on the brink of tears. He hugged himself and replied, "I believe you."

"I am glad to hear it. Everything will be all right if we stick together. We have much still to work through, but we will take one step at a time until we succeed. We will start with a hot meal, and afterwards, walk the city to clear your mind. We can talk more then."

With his arm around his brother's shoulders, Thor guided Loki back to the restaurant and was somewhat surprised when he met with no resistance. When they entered, a few of the patrons who had witnessed Loki's tearful exit turned in their seats and cheered. The waitress had left their food on their table, untouched and waiting for them to return.

Loki threw his coat on his chair and said, "I wish to splash water on my face." He slipped away to find the bathrooms without saying anything else.

Thor frowned as he watched his brother head for the back hallway of the restaurant. After removing his own coat, he glanced at the fine meal. Catching the eye of the waitress, he lifted a hand of thanks to her for keeping their table reserved for them during their brief absence.

Before hanging his coat on the back of his chair, Thor slipped his hand into the right pocket, where he had tucked away some of the Midgardian currency Frigga had left for them.

He wasn't certain why he felt the need to check, but his heart had already sunk to the floor by the time he discovered that the pocket was empty. He checked the others to be certain but soon confirmed the money was indeed gone. It wasn't difficult to imagine Loki stealing it from his pockets while they embraced.

Thor was in motion at once, following after his brother to the back of the restaurant. There was a short hallway with two doors on one side and a third positioned at the rear. He spared only the briefest of glances into the bathrooms, and finding them empty, moved with haste toward that final door.

It opened up into an empty alley, devoid of life in any direction he looked. Thor took in a slow breath through his nose and tried to remain calm, but there was no denying the truth.

Loki was gone.

* * *

><p>To be continued<p>

Notes: Thank you so much for your encouraging words last chapter. They really helped give my spirits a boost. :) And as always, thank you for taking the time to read! It's fun to be able to share my imagination with others. I'd love to know what you thought if you have time to say hello. Cheers!


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